


Every Thirty Days

by laurie_ky



Category: Avengers (Comics), Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Adventure, BAMF Bruce Banner, Borrowed a few Marvel characters from the comics, Bruce & Hulk Interaction, Bruce Angst, Clint provokes, Depression, Doc Samson - Freeform, Doctor Strange - Freeform, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post Season/Series 02, SHIELD doesn't trust Hulk, Siryn - Freeform, Small Fandom Big Bang, The Controller - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 19:06:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 63,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurie_ky/pseuds/laurie_ky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce Banner's a fugitive genius professor who could pass as a homeless kid. He's also a puzzle that Clint Barton can't quite figure out. So he gives Banner a hard time, hoping to see some honest reactions from him.  Still, Clint volunteers to babysit Banner and take him where he wants to go when Hulk lets Banner out once a month. Clint does it as a favor for Hulk, his good friend.  After all, Hulk is a fellow Avenger. Banner, he's not an Avenger. Clint made that clear to him. </p><p>But when Banner starts refusing to take his day off, Clint decides it's been too long since he's seen Banner's freckled face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Small Fandoms Big Bang Cover Art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/752167) by [allofthefandoms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthefandoms/pseuds/allofthefandoms). 



> I want to make it clear, in case a reader didn't look carefully at the fandom tag, that this is an Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes story. This is not a fusion with 2012 Avengers. I have borrowed a few Marvel comics characters for this story.
> 
> There are brief mention of past child abuse, past torture. Depression.
> 
> The science is comic book science, for the most part. Doctor Strange's incantations are quoted from the comics. Some wording between Bruce and Clint about Bruce not being an Avenger is from the show. 
> 
> The book Bruce reads is [_Dark Matter: Poems of Space_ edited by Maurice Riordan and Dame Jocelyn Bell Burnell.](http://telescoper.wordpress.com/2009/02/01/poems-of-space/)
> 
> Thank you to Allofthefandoms for her cheerleading and for the dramatic art she created for the story. It was appreciated, chicka. This story was beta'ed by Lettered, and I cherish all the comments and the analysis of my writing style. Thank you; I've learned so much from you.
> 
> 12/16/2013 I just came across this [ beautiful artwork of Clint and Bruce stargazing](http://saiyajenn.tumblr.com/post/61416744763/hey-doc-i-bet-you-know-all-of-these-dont%22), inspired by the story, by Saiyajenn. I'm sorry, I'm not on Tumblr so I didn't contact her there and couldn't find an email address. So, if she sees this, I really love the picture and I almost fell out of my chair when I came across it by chance while messing around on the internet. Thank you so much. I'm presuming by publishing the link here, but my rationale is that the post was copied a lot on Tumblr, so I'm assuming there's no problem with me doing it here.

_Clint_

Sometimes, Clint felt sorry for Bruce Banner. He was only allowed to have charge of the body he shared with Hulk once every thirty days—but Banner had agreed to the deal. He'd told them all that he wanted Hulk to be accepted for himself, and that had meant letting Jade Jaws be in charge. Anyway, it wasn't any of Clint's business what Hulk and Banner decided to do about their time-share arrangements.

Clint figured that since he and Hulk were bro's, he'd keep an eye on the Hulk's alter ego, egghead that he was, and keep him out of trouble. Now, according to his calendar, it was about time for Banner to show up.

“JARVIS, where's Hulk?”

“Hulk is on the rooftop, swimming in the pool, Master Barton.”

After changing into his own swimsuit, Clint headed up to the mansion's roof, and grinned when he saw Hulk floating in the water, eyes closed, relaxing.

He dropped his towel by the lounge chairs and cannon-balled into the pool, laughing when he surfaced, hearing Hulk roaring for splashing him. 

Hulk stood up, grabbed Clint, and then threw him half the pool length from him, chuckling himself when Clint floundered through the air and did a belly smacker when he landed.

Clint spat out a mouthful of water and said, “Ow. Hey, Jolly Green. When ya gonna let Banner out? Today? Tomorrow?”

Hulk just grunted.

“He tell you where he wants to go this time?” 

Hulk climbed out of the pool and shook himself like a huge dog. “Banner's not coming out.”

“Why? He decide to quit tormenting the fish?” 

Clint was puzzled. Banner always tried to cram in as much “me” time as he could.

Hulk shrugged. “Don't know why. He just said no. I told him if he didn't take his turn he would lose it. He said he knew.”

The Hulk left then and Clint started doing laps, and counting back in his head to when he had last seen Banner. It must have been when they'd first encountered the Red Hulk.

Banner had wanted to go fishing and camping. Again. Clint had argued with him before they left because, hello, Skrull invasion, but Banner calmly kept insisting this was what he wanted to do. He'd told Clint he could just drop him off and pick him up tomorrow, if Clint wanted to stay at the mansion.

Clint wasn't about to let him go alone, but he kept pointing out they should be doing something, _anything_ about the way the Skrulls were stealing people's identities. So he was being a nuisance. So what? 

Banner had scanned all the Avengers before he and Clint packed up their camping gear and flew to a lake. He said there was nothing more he could do. 

Clint didn't want to hear that. He grumped about it all the way to the campsite and kept it up out in the fishing boat. Doctor Bruce Banner was a genius; Clint had seen him pull a solution out of a hat to stop the Leader's monster making gamma dome. He wanted Banner to get fired up about hunting down the Skrull imposters. 

Banner didn't catch fire. He didn't even smolder. He just turned to look at Clint, calmly re-stated that none of the Avengers were showing any kind of radiation discrepancy. If any of them were aliens, he couldn't detect it.

Clint had kept glaring at him, but Banner hadn't glared back. He'd looked blank again, like he usually did when Clint was pestering him about something.

Then Clint had gotten a glimpse that Banner wasn't as laid back about his little arrangement with Hulk as he tried to make them believe.

“You have no idea what it's like, being in the Hulk's head, or what I'm giving up so that Hulk can be seen as a force for good,” Banner had said.

Clint heard emotion embedded in those words, frustration, a hint of exhaustion, determination, but just as quickly as he'd let them slip, Banner buried those feelings. The mask he wore was firmly back in place as he stated he was taking the day for him, and he was going fishing. 

Clint knew he'd been an ass, telling Banner that he was tired of being with him after just four hours of his company, and that he missed Hulk.

Banner had looked off to the side, then told him, “Hulk says that Cupid, ah, you, should take a nap. He'll see you tomorrow.”

“He would have told me I was being a jerk, too. You kept that part to yourself, didn't you?”

Banner ignored him and reeled in his line. 

“How come you don't tell me I'm a jerk? I bet you're thinking it.”

Banner cast his line out again and concentrated on watching the bobber float. 

“Just say it, Doc. C'mon, tell me what you really think about me, I can take it. Clear the air, and all.”

Banner didn't answer him, but Clint saw his shoulders slump a little. When Banner hadn't said a word in fifteen more minutes, despite Clint egging him on, Clint decided to leave him alone. 

Banner had brought sandwiches. Clint ate a turkey and ham one quietly, wondering what it was like to just be a voice and images in somebody else's head.

Clint had handed him a sandwich after a while, and Banner finally spoke again.

“Thank you,” he'd said. 

Later, they'd worked companionably together at the campsite. Clint told a pretty good story about teaching Thor to play poker. Banner listened, and it was almost like they actually liked spending time with each other. Clint played with getting the campfire going, and Banner scavenged around for more dry wood. 

Banner had stepped away to get another armload when Jan called. Banner knew the trip was over as soon as he saw Clint sitting there with the card in his hand. 

“My day just got cut short, didn't it?” He dropped his armload of wood and looked resigned, rather than blank. “Who's attacking now, time travelers, aliens?” 

Banner had slipped, snarking like that. But that was nothing compared to the shocked look on his freckled, scruffy face when Clint said that it was him, the Hulk -- destroying the helicarrier. 

* * *

 _Be careful what you wish for,_ his mother used to tell him. He'd wanted Banner to express some real emotion and now he was getting an earful.

There was a new player in town, and Maria Hill thought it was their Hulk. He was another hulk, all right, red skin, black hair, huge muscles. Clint and Banner watched the footage of him rampaging on the helicarrier as they flew back home.

Cap said Banner needed to stay Banner. It wasn't a good idea for Hulk to show up. He ordered Clint to keep Banner at the mansion, but Banner wanted the two of them to go and help Jan and Steve. Clint refused to take him out to face danger, not as Bruce Banner. They were still arguing when Clint landed the quinjet. Banner didn't want to accept that both he and Hulk were grounded.

“I said no.” 

Banner's facade of calmness cracked. “How do you get to say no to me? I'm an Avenger. I was an Avenger before you were. I want to help.”

Clint turned and saw that Banner was frowning. He was tired of this conversation. Banner was staying put and that was that.

“Okay, A:? You're not an Avenger. The Hulk is. Calling you an Avenger is like saying my bow is a member of the team.”

He added, reasonably, “And two:? Cap's right. You have to stay here.”

Banner followed him into the elevator and the mask was back in place. Banner's voice was calm as he said, “You're making it very difficult to not turn into the Hulk and tear you apart.”

Clint gave him some space in the elevator. Banner would just have to accept that he wasn't going anywhere.

* * *

Upstairs, their party of two became three when the dude with the wings showed up. 

Falcon shot at Clint and landed a dart in Banner's arm. He swooped Banner up and tossed him over his shoulder, then flew up towards the gigantic hole in the roof. 

So kidnapping was on somebody's agenda.

Banner hadn't been able to change into Hulk, because his abductor had shot him up with some kind of drug. 

Clint had stopped the guy, but the Red Hulk had stomped in and had taken Banner instead. When Clint had caught up to them, the Red Hulk had been roughing Banner up, trying to make him change to Hulk so they could fight. But Banner hadn't changed, and the Red Hulk had grabbed Clint instead, starting in on him. Red Hulk had dangled Clint by an arm, hurting him, still trying to force Banner to change. 

Banner had stared with those big eyes of his looking... he'd looked terrified, but he wasn't terrified of the Red Hulk. Banner wasn't looking at the Red Hulk at all; he'd been staring at Clint. Clint pictured again the desperation on Banner's face, as he obviously kept trying to overcome the drug. 

Clint had been screaming before the Red Hulk – fucking General Ross – was through with him, when Banner had finally been able to unleash Hulk. 

The Red Hulk had scrammed and Hulk gave himself up to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s custody on Skrull Captain America's advice. Clint knew that Steve felt responsible for Hulk's submitting to Ross, even though it had been an imposter at work. 

Clint hadn't seen Banner since and that had been months and months ago.

Cap and Tony had gone to free him when the president had finally signed the orders, but Clint hadn't been invited. 

Cap had probably been afraid Clint would shoot Ross with one of his arrows. Who knew, Clint might have done it. Fucking General Ross. He'd implanted a device in Banner's brain, driving Banner and Hulk crazy. Hulk had ended up back in custody until the Avengers had discovered the device and freed Hulk again. 

Hulk had taken some time for himself after they'd gotten the device out of his head. He was peeved that it had taken so long for the Avengers to get him out of custody, but he wasn't roaringly angry about it. He knew they were his team, his friends. And he came back to fight Galactus. But between all of that, it had been too long since Clint had seen Banner's freckled face. 

Clint climbed out of the pool and dried off, wrapped the towel around his shoulders. It was a little too chilly to lay around on a lounge chair and bask like a lizard. He might as well head back inside. 

Back in his room, he thought he might cut the snark when Banner showed up next month. Give the guy a little break before he went back to needling him again, getting him to push back. But only for, eh, maybe half a day. Didn't want to confuse the guy.

He'd just have to wait another thirty days before getting the chance.

* * * 

Clint wouldn't admit this to anyone, certainly not to Hulk, but he'd added Bruce Banner to his list of responsibilities. It wasn't like he really liked him. Sure, Banner was one of the smartest guys around, and when it came to helping the Avengers with science stuff, he was brilliant. But it was Hulk who did the heavy lifting for that duo. Hulk had proved himself a hero over and over. He was an Avenger. Banner was... more like a consultant. He wasn't cut out to be part of the team.

The first time Clint had seen Hulk transform back to Banner, the guy had actually passed out, only waking up after he'd been restrained for transport to the Cube. He'd looked so resigned. Clint hadn't been able to get that look out of his mind; it was partly why he'd gone to question Banner.

Banner had been standing with his arms fastened high over his head in a cold, top-notch security cell. He was only wearing shortened, tattered pants, and those damned brown eyes of his had looked hopeless. Banner had still looked straight at him. “Let me guess. You thought I'd be bigger?” he'd asked. 

“Funny,” Clint had replied. He asked Banner about the monster who hadn't acted much like a monster. Hulk had chosen to save Clint and Natasha and their crew, when he could have escaped. That was why Banner got taken to the Cube. Some reward.

Banner had challenged Clint to find out what S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Hulkbusters wanted with Hulk and his blood. Banner had gotten passionate, describing what he thought was really happening in the Cube. 

Clint had never been one to toe the party line, not even for S.H.I.E.L.D., and so he'd looked into Banner's claim that the gamma monsters, Hulk included, were there to be experimented on, not cured. It was true. S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted to make them into weapons. 

Even after the Hulk's escape and Clint regaining his own freedom, it bothered Clint to remember how Banner had been restrained in that gamma dampener cell. He had to have been freezing in the chilly air and his arms must have really hurt after a while, held over his head like that. 

The guy was little, but long-legged, skinny, with stubble that covered his freckled face. If he ever did shave it off, he'd look about twelve. His mop of light brown hair and those brown eyes, plus the way he always dressed in hoodies or wore a ball cap— well, it all made him look like a kid. He guessed Banner wore those clothes because they were comfortable and they'd been practical when he was on the run. He couldn't imagine Banner wearing a suit, like Stark or Pym. 

Banner always acted really chill, like some sort of Buddhist monk or something, but whenever Clint started to wonder if maybe Banner was as bland as he tried to make everybody believe, he'd remember Banner challenging him and giving him lip. For all Banner had known, Clint had entered his cell to work him over. Banner just hadn't seemed to care. 

Well, not about himself. He cared about other people and he cared about Hulk. He'd stick up for them, at least, trying to sound calm as he made his points. Sometimes he slipped for a brief moment and let out stronger emotions, but he always went back to sounding like he was whispering a mantra under his breath. If he truly was getting angry then he'd let Hulk take over. There was a definite line between Banner and Hulk and if you pushed Banner over it, he didn't stay Banner. 

Sometimes, Clint thought he'd only seen the true Banner in that cell.

He wanted to see that passion and assertiveness and snark again. 

So Clint liked to poke at him to make him drop the Zen act. Usually Banner wouldn't bite, which just made Clint want to try harder. 

Once in a while Banner would calmly state that Clint was making him angry and if he didn't stop what he was doing, Hulk would show up and take care of the problem. Clint doubted it since he and Hulk were buddies. But he usually gave Banner some space and stopped yanking his chain, because Hulk might want to smash him, just a bit, to teach him a lesson. 

Hulk didn't take any shit from anyone, and Clint respected him for that. It was kind of mutual. He'd stopped believing that Hulk was a menace to society after Banner had talked to Clint. Hulk was more like a misunderstood hero. They were pals, and Hulk had his back. Since Banner was the vulnerable one, that meant returning the favor translated into looking out for Banner.

So, Clint was okay with being Banner's watcher, because one of the Avengers needed to protect him on his day out, and keep an eye on Hulk.

Banner didn't agree. He'd pointed out a few times that he'd been on the run for years and had stayed in one piece without having a superhero tagging along. Clint had ignored his arguments. He thought Banner had given in and stopped fussing about having Clint with him because Clint was a pilot. Banner was a nature boy and if he wanted to get out in the wilderness and back in a day, he needed Clint's help.

Yeah, he was the one who babysat Banner, flew him up to Canada so Banner could commune with the fish or shiver like a leaf while building up a campfire. Sometimes Banner would work like a fiend in his cool little laboratory cabin. Clint would sprawl on the bed in the corner and watch him dart from one computer to another, adjusting a machine's settings or typing up notes. Banner would refuse to sleep while it seemed like he ran a dozen experiments. Later, when they had to return, the guy would keep his eyes glued to the cockpit windows, watching the clouds, and the rivers and mountains below them. 

Banner never slept on the quinjet, even though his eyes would be drooping. Clint guessed that he didn't want to miss one single moment of his once a month pass out into the world.

Which was why it seemed kinda funny when Hulk said Banner didn't wanna come out for his turn.

 

* * *

It was just past dark, three days after Hulk and Clint had hung out at the pool and Hulk had told him that Banner wasn't coming out this month. Half of the team were relaxing outside, laughing, eating, and enjoying some down time after their latest skirmish with A.I.M. Jan had collected him, Thor, Jane, and Hulk and extracted promises from Tony, Steve, and T'Challa to come join them on the patio later. 

Thor had wanted a campfire and Jan and Hulk decided that s'mores would be perfect. Jan kept burning her marshmallows, but since Hulk liked them that way, he was kept busy happily eating her mistakes. 

Clint had stacked his perfectly toasted marshmallow on top of the graham cracker and Hershey bar, and put just the right amount of pressure on the top cracker to meld the whole gooey mess together. 

Heaven. 

Jan looked at her latest attempt – black crispy stickiness and broken crackers -- and gave it to Hulk. 

“Clint, would you make me one?” Jan handed over her stick to him. 

“You have to acknowledge that I am the Jedi-master of making s'mores first.”

Jan batted her eyes. “You know, Bobbi and I are going out clubbing tomorrow. I don't think she's heard the story of how you got locked out of the Baxter building in your--”

Clint held up his hands. “Fine. I'll make you as many s'mores as you want and you don't rat a teammate out.”

Jan held up her fist and Clint bumped it gently with his own. “Deal,” she said. He took her stick and slid two marshmallows on it.

He didn't care if Bobbi Morse heard about that disaster of a poker game. He'd caved because he liked teasing Jan, but he liked it even more when she held her ground and teased him right back. 

Unlike some people. 

Thor took a bite of his s'more and the oddest look came over his face. “I do not care for this confection, Jane. The sweetness is overpowering.”

Jane laughed, and took it from him. “I learned how to do this in Girl Scouts. I love them.”

Tony walked out of the mansion, carrying one of his health shakes. 

Jan said, “Tony, you want a s'more?”

He shook his head. “Getting marshmallow out of my beard is a pain. I'll stick with this.” He held up his shake. Clint thought it looked like pond scum.

Clint turned the marshmallows on his stick precisely one-fourth of an inch to the left. At his side, Jan leaned over a little closer to the chiminea, and the light from the flames illuminated her eager face. 

“When is it going to be done?” 

“Soon, young padawan. Patience, must you have.”

He thought back to the last time he'd made s'mores. It had been awhile. 

He and Banner had camped up in the Adirondacks. In order to make the most of Banner's twenty-four hour vacation, they'd flown in a quinjet and then ridden a sky scooter to a camping site. 

It was a nice place, with hiking trails and a stream for fishing. Not that he actually told Banner that he liked this spot, but he hadn't bitched about being here. Banner would get the message.

Banner had been reading earlier, on the quinjet.

Clint had asked, “Hey, Doc, what's the name of your book?” Banner was a nerd, and Clint bet he was reading something nerdish. 

“Dark Matter: Poems of Space.”

Yep. He'd been right.

“So, what's it about?”

“Physics. Stars. Poetry.”

“Wish I'd brought some comic books.”

 

* * *

They worked together to set up camp, then Banner had gone fishing. Clint had taken a series of cat naps while keeping an eye on the guy. Banner could run. He'd left something at the scooter and he'd sprinted to get it. With long legs like that, Clint wondered if he'd maybe run track as a kid. Probably not. Banner struck him as more the chess club type than any sort of athlete. He was kind of graceful, though. He'd move like a dancer in his little cabin, from one machine to another. 

Clint never would have guessed he was a professor. He looked more like a student than a teacher. A poor one, to boot. Guy needed a haircut, his hair was so thick and shaggy.

After a picnic supper, Clint had built a fire and gotten out his personal stash of s'more makings. 

Sitting on a log, Banner had tilted his head back to watch the sparks fly up into the darkness. He looked peaceful, mesmerized. He reminded Clint of a smooth as glass lake that reflected the sky. A nice view, sure, but he was more interested in what was underneath the water. Sometimes, a guy just had to throw a rock into a lake like that – make ripples, see what came up to the surface.

Clint made a big production out of making the first s'more. He wanted Banner to ask him for one. To drag him out of his own little world and ask Clint Barton for a favor. He knew that Banner didn't consider him coming along as being any sort of favor. 

He whistled while toasting the marshmallows, feeling Banner's eyes on him. He didn't think Banner realized it, but Clint knew the guy watched him a lot. He'd drop his eyes or look away if Clint looked back, usually.

He didn't know what was up with that.

He took his s'more and sat down on the log next to Banner. He took a bite and fired the first volley.

“Mmm... so good. Man, I love these things.”

Banner didn't even look over at him.

“Glad I brought enough supplies to make a bunch.”

Banner got up and put another small log on the fire, sitting down a lot further from Clint when he came back.

Okay. Challenge accepted, he thought. He popped the rest of the treat in his mouth and got back up. He rummaged in the marshmallow bag, brought out four,and pushed them carefully onto the stick. He crouched down in front of the fire where he'd raked out some coals.

“Room on the stick for four of these babies. More efficient to make two at a time, don't ch'a think, Doc?”

Banner looked at him. “Yes.”

“They sure do taste good.”

He didn't answer him. 

“Of course some people don't like them.”

That was Banner's chance to say that he liked them and ask for one. Or say that he didn't care for them.

He didn't take the opening, though.

He didn't say anything. 

Jesus, he was making Clint work for this. “Banner, do you like s'mores? Yes or no.”

Banner shrugged. “Yes.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“Yes.”

“Did it occur to you to ask me for one?”

“Yes.”

“Well?”

“Enjoy your s'mores, Clint,” Banner said, placid, his mask firmly in place. 

Clint slid the perfectly toasted marshmallows onto the waiting crackers and chocolate bars, took them over to where Banner had moved.

He sat down so close to him that their thighs were touching. Nothing like invading your target's personal space to make them nervous. 

That worked. He felt Banner tensing up next to him. He decided to up the ante. He brushed his shoulder against Banner's.

Banner swallowed, and kind of shrank down a little. 

Clint was disappointed. He wanted him to stake his space, shove Clint back out of it. 

He knew Banner had it in him. He'd read the reports on the guy before he and the Widow went to take down Hulk. Okay, so he wasn't really a fighter. Guy was a genius professor, not a ninja. He'd still resisted being captured, even as Bruce Banner, pushing and shoving to get away. 

Clint ate the first s'more and upped the ante even more.

“Here, hold this.” He handed a s'more to Banner. Clint stuck his sticky fingers in his mouth one at a time, sucking and licking them clean. 

Banner was watching Clint's mouth with quick sidelong looks but didn't look at the s'more he was holding. He didn't ask for it; he didn't break off a piece and pop it in his mouth. Clint would have in a heartbeat. Hell, he'd have crammed the whole thing in his mouth just to thwart the asshole who was taunting him with it. 

Banner started to hand the s'more back to Clint, but Clint had decided on a new approach.

“I'm ordering you to eat that.”

Now that did bring a reaction. Banner straightened up. He said, with a ragged edge to his normally calm voice, “You can't tell me what to do, Clint,” and he lobbed the s'more towards the fire. 

Clint grabbed it on the downward arc into the flames. He turned and stared at Banner.

He was too late. Whatever defiance had lit up those brown eyes was already smothered by the calmness that Banner used as a barrier between him and the world.

“Would it kill you to just ask for what you want, Banner?”

Banner stood up. “I'm going to walk up that hill.” He pointed North. 

“Why? I need you to stay in my line of sight.”

“There's a meteor shower right before dawn. I'll be fine. You should get some sleep, and I'll see you in the morning.” He started walking away from Clint.

Clint yelled, “You know, you can call me on being an asshole. Really. It would make me so hot if you did.”

He didn't expect Banner to respond to that. And of course, he didn't. Clint dropped the s'more in the fire.

* * *

He gave Jan her perfect s'more but his thoughts were still back with Banner, in the Adirondacks.

* * *

Banner had made himself a cozy nest high up on the hill where there was an excellent view of the night sky. Clint climbed up and plopped himself down in the middle of it, right next to Banner.

He put down his sleeping bag and his quiver and grabbed Banner's hand.

“Here.” He gave him the two s'mores he'd made and wrapped in foil. 

“What's-- oh. Um, thank you.” 

“So, stargazing, right?”

Banner nodded.

“You gonna stay up all night, like usual?” Clint asked.

“I'm going to try.”

Clint unrolled his sleeping bag. Banner was sitting cross-legged, the book he'd been reading flipped over next to him, the book light just a dim glow.

Banner unwrapped the s'mores, and while Clint stretched out on his sleeping bag, he ate one. 

Clint knew some of the constellations. That W one, and the Big Dipper. Orion. 

“Hey, Doc. I bet you know all of these, don't you?” He pointed up to the sky.

“I know the constellations, if that's what you mean.” He broke the second s'more in two parts and handed half to Clint.

“I know a few.” Clint ate his in two bites.

Banner pointed towards the Southern horizon. “There's yours.” He took a nibble, and his eyes closed briefly. 

Probably in bliss, Clint thought. He made a top-notch s'more.

“What d'ya mean 'there's yours?'” 

“Sagittarius is your constellation. He's an archer. Hang on, and I'll show you.” He ate the rest and started to wipe his hand clean on his sweatshirt.

Clint grabbed his arm. “Wait. What about ants? I know Pym is nuts about them, but I'd rather not have them crawling over me looking for sugary crumbs.”

“Yeah. Um, thanks. I wasn't thinking.” 

Banner did what Clint had done earlier and started licking his fingers. He sucked them one at a time into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he did. He wiped his fingers dry on his sweatshirt. His fingers were thin, like the rest of him, but they were kind of elegant, too. Clint had seen Banner's hands dancing over lab equipment, so quick and so sure. Now one hand was pointing upwards. 

“Okay, see the Milky Way?” Banner said. 

“Yeah.”

“Follow it down to the Southern horizon, and that group of stars... That's the Archer.”

“Okay. I see it.” Clint stared up at the heavens. After a few minutes he added, “Hey, if I'm the Archer, then, uh, Thor can be Orion. Big guy, kind of larger than life. But Orion hasn't risen yet, it's too early in the evening.”

Banner nodded. “I like Orion for Thor.” 

“What about Jan? What constellation would she be?” Clint asked.

Banner thought about that for a while, and Clint decided it was kind of nice looking up at the stars like this. You couldn't see the night sky this way in New York. The air out here was a little chilly, but it smelled pretty good. Kind of woodsy. He could hear a hoot owl calling. 

Banner said quietly, “Jan, I think she would be one of the Pleiades. But it's too early to see them. Maybe in a couple of hours.”

“Okay, why the Pleiades for Jan?”

“Umm, well, it's just that Jan is good friends with a number of other talented ladies, like Sue Storm, and Bobbi Morse, and Carol,” Banner said.

“Maria Hill, too.”

“There's this other legend about the Pleiades, that they were the daughters of an Amazon queen. Jan is such a fighter, you know.”

“Boy, she would love that. Tell her about it when we get back.”

“Maybe you should. Hulk will be eager to change places with me.” 

“Who would Hulk be?”

“Hulk would be... Perseus. The hero.”

“Yeah, he'd like that. And he is. General Ross had it wrong about him all these years.”

Clint listened to the night sounds around him, crickets, and something else that was making the woods nearby sound like it was thrumming.

“Ross, he's Cetus. Steve can be Hercules. He's so strong and another hero to boot.”

“Yeah, Hercules fits for Steve. Where's he at?”

“There.” He pointed to various stars. “That yellow star is Beta Herculis or Kornephoros.”

“What about Tony? And who's this Cetus guy?”

Banner looked down at the space blanket and his sleeping bag, finding something fascinating about them going by the way he kept staring. “I have to think about Tony.”

“Are any of the constellations named for really rich guys who like to snark and invent shit?”

“I'll get back to you on that,” Banner said dryly.

Clint yawned and waited for Banner to figure out who Iron Man's counterpart in the sky would be. Yawned some more. He sat back up and stretched.

Banner said, eyes on the heavens, “You can go to sleep. If Hulk comes out, you'll hear him. And I've got nowhere else to go.”

“Have you figured out who Tony is yet?” 

“None of the Greek-Roman constellations seem to fit. I'm thinking about some from India and China.”

Clint grabbed Banner's book and laid down on his stomach. “This your poetry science book? I didn't think those things went together.”

He started leafing through the book, stopped to read one by Walt Whitman. 

He laughed when he finished it. “Hey, this guy sounds like me. Listen.

'When I heard the learn'ed astronomer;  
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me;  
When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them;  
When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,  
How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick'  
Till rising and gliding out, I wander'd off by myself,  
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,  
Look'd up in perfect silence at the stars.'”

Clint snorted. “I'd rather look at them then study them.” 

Banner focused a thoughtful look at him. “But when I'm reading those charts you mentioned, graphs of say, long burst gamma radiation from the formation of black holes, I know that I'm seeing the dying gasp of a massive star as it went supernova. That's poetry to me, that message from the cosmos. The epitaph of a brilliant, mighty sun.”

“Okay. I admit it does sound cool when you say it like that, but I know if I look at a bunch of numbers, all I'm gonna see is a bunch of numbers. Here.” 

He passed the book over. “You find one that gets you all excited,” and muttered under his breath, “I'd like to see something get you all hot and bothered, other than S.H.I.E.L.D.'s experimenting on gamma mutants.”

He knew Banner must have heard him, from the sharp glance he gave him, but then the mask was back in place. 

“I don't want to bore you.”

“Doc, c'mon. Pick one out.”

Banner leafed through the book, and Clint yawned again. He laid his head down on his folded arms. 

Banner said softly,”This one was written by an astronomer and physicist, Rebecca Elson. It's called, _Let there Always be Light (Searching for Dark Matter)_

'For this we go out dark nights, searching  
For the dimmest stars,  
For signs of unseen things:

To weigh us down.  
To stop the universe  
From rushing on and on:

Into it's own beyond  
Till it exhausts itself and lies down cold,  
Its last star going out.

Whatever they turn out to be,  
Let there be swarms of them,  
Enough for immortality,  
Always a star where we can warm ourselves. 

Let there be enough to bring it back from its own edges,  
To bring us all so close we ignite  
the bright spark of resurrection.

Clint heard the last words but he was on the verge of sleep. He reached out and felt Banner still there, still sitting cross-legged. He found Banner's ankle and tightened his hand around it. Then he let himself drift off.

* * *

He was being shaken; he came awake fast in the darkness and grabbed his quiver. No matter how tired he was, or where he was, he always knew where his weapons were.

“No, it's okay.” It was Banner, sounding apologetic. 

“You all right?” Clint said, looking around. Shit, it was dark out still.

“There's nothing wrong. It's just that the Perseids are coming in strong and I, I thought you might like to see them before it's dawn. The moon set so it's a little darker now.” 

Sometime in the night Banner had put his own sleeping bag over Clint, so he was warm. Banner looked kind of cold, though, so he grabbed his hand. Yeah. Banner was cold. He let go and tossed the guy's sleeping bag to him. 

“Thanks. Better wrap up in that, though.”

Banner did and then pointed about half-way up the sky. “There's one.”

Clint watched a long streak of light flash across the sky. “Shooting stars. Nice.”

He climbed inside his sleeping bag and watched the skies, keeping count of the trails of light he saw. Banner looked like he had when he'd been watching the campfire sparks fly up into the night. 

“Hey, did you ever think of a constellation for Tony?” Clint asked, thinking about eating breakfast soon. The Eastern sky was starting to lighten up.

“No. But I think we can use Mercury for him. Mercury was the Roman god of finance and transportation.”

Clint chuckled. “Tony likes his sports cars and he loves zipping around in his suit. Okay, Tony can be a speedy planet.”

After a while, Banner started packing up his supplies. While the sun wasn't visible yet, it wouldn't be long till the sky turned red and pink in the East. Clint rolled up his sleeping bag and slung his quiver on his back, watching one last meteor streak across the sky. They walked back to the now dead campfire, and Clint made sure it was really out.

Banner used a backpacking stove to make oatmeal with dried milk and raisins, and Clint tidied up, stowing their gear on the scooter. They ate and made plans. Banner wanted to hike the rest of the morning, and then they'd head home. Hulk would be back with him by two or three o'clock. They'd go collect Jan and hang out by the pool. 

“Hey, you didn't tell me who you were, Doc. Which one is your constellation?” 

“Umm, Andromeda.”

“Andromeda?”

Banner nodded, and bent down to retie his sneaker. 

“Andromeda was a princess, right? You're actually calling yourself a princess?”

This was too good to be true. Clint laughed until he started to hiccup. 

“Okay, princess, which trail are we taking?”

* * *

He teased the fuck out of Banner about the whole princess thing, even pointed to some Black Eyed Susans and asked if he wanted a crown of flowers. 

Banner didn't get mad, didn't roll his eyes at Clint, or even join in laughing at himself. He kept that blank, still expression on his face, and told Clint it was best to not pick wildflowers. He agreed that identifying with a princess was funny. It was like he was surrounded by a force field that just bounced off every one of Clint's attempts to get him to react.

Bored, Clint dropped teasing him by the time they'd returned to the scooter.

He was so looking forward to swapping Banner for Hulk.

* * *

There was trouble waiting for them when they got back. 

Tony said, “Good timing,” when they took the elevator up to the Assembly Room, alerted by JARVIS that they were needed. “We were getting ready to call you.” 

Tony turned to Banner. “Hi, Bruce.” He gave a small wave of his hand. “Bye, Bruce.”

“Hi, Tony. Problem?” Bruce said.

“There's reports of hostages being held by some dude in a metal suit. He's demanding that the Avengers fight him. We need Hulk on this one.”

Banner nodded, untied his sneakers, pulled his T-shirt off, and dropped it on top of his shoes. 

He glanced at Clint and then closed his eyes. Clint watched as Banner's muscles swelled, his skin turned green, and he shot up in height.

Hulk was back. Clint held up his hand for a high-five. “Hey, Jolly Green. Good to see you again.” Hulk high-fived him gently.

Hulk smacked his fist against his own open palm. “Hmph. Let's go. Sounds like somebody needs smashing.” He pointed a finger at Clint. “Cupid's out of uniform.” 

“Oh, right. Where's this shindig happening?”

“Central Park. At the zoo.” Tony said.

“Meet you there. Hulk, can I catch a ride with you?”

* * *  
Fabian Stankowicz, otherwise known as the Mechano Maurader, otherwise known as a dumb ass, had been disarmed and his hostages freed. The Avengers had gladly turned him over to the cops. For the third time. Guy had a real jones about fighting the team, and he was a pain in the butt.

Distracted by the fight, Clint never did get around to telling the others about their constellation and planet counterparts. Not until weeks later, when the team had sprawled out in the living room waiting for a takeout order to arrive. Clint listened to Jan chattering about some party she was planning for her superhero girlfriends, and it jogged his memory. Banner had said Jan could be one of the Pleiades because of her friendships with other superhero women. He decided he'd share the story about who's who in the cosmos.

“So, let me get this straight,” Tony said. “You're Sagittarius, the Archer, Thor is Orion, Steve is Hercules, Hulk is Perseus, Jan is one of the Pleiades, but I'm a planet?” He waved his chopsticks in mock dismay. 

“Sure are” Clint said. “Mercury. Banner said Mercury was the god of finance and transportation. That fits you.” He took a bite of his egg roll. Dinner had been good. Tony knew all the best restaurants.

Jan said, “It kind of does, Tony.” 

Clint snickered. “Wait till you hear which constellation Banner picked for himself.”

Hulk said, “Andromeda.”

“Yeah. He wanted to be a princess.” Clint chuckled, amused all over again.

Hulk looked unimpressed. “That's not why he picked Andromeda.” He smashed an empty can of root beer with one finger.

Steve said, “Andromeda may have been a princess, Clint, but she was also a prisoner. Her father betrayed her, sacrificed her, to the sea god. Her father chained her to a cliff by the ocean so that Cetus, a sea monster, could claim her. Perseus, the hero, saved her.”

Clint pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ah, jeez, Banner said that Ross was Cetus.” He got up and put a hand on Hulk's arm. “He didn't explain any of what Steve just said.” 

Jan said, “Clint, I'm surprised he even admitted identifying with Andromeda to you. It's more than he's ever said to me and I've asked him about being a prisoner. He just politely changes the subject.”

“Well, he won't have to worry about Ross ever again,” Clint said. “Not with Hulk being an Avenger.”

“I don't know,” Tony said. “From the way Maria Hill talks, S.H.I.E.L.D. and the government still have him on probation.”

Later, Clint thought about what he'd said that night, after Ross had taken Banner into an unjustified incarceration for allegedly attacking the helicarrier. Cetus had won for now, but Steve and Tony had a plan to get Banner a pardon from the president. Banner had been Clint's responsibility; he had let Banner and Hulk down when he hadn't been able to protect them from Ross and the Hulkbusters.

* * *

Clint let his memories go and handed a perfect s'more to Hulk, figuring that the guy deserved to eat at least one that wasn't a charred disaster. That camping trip with Banner up in the Adirondacks had been kind of decent. Watching the shooting stars, hiking. Banner had even talked a little more than usual. It had been fun figuring out the whole constellation deal.

When Banner switched places with Hulk next month, it might be cool to go camping again. Hell, he might even learn to fish, if Banner wanted to spend time in a boat.


	2. Chapter 2

_Clint_

After Banner had declined his day out, Clint made sure to check in with Hulk about Banner's plans the next month. But Banner gave up his day again. Same thing happened the following month, too.

Hulk looked uneasy when he explained this last time that Banner didn't want to change places with him. Clint was feeling uneasy, too. He told himself that if Banner didn't show for his next turn, that he was going to talk to Hulk about making Banner come out. 

And okay, missing those three days of Banner time wasn't maybe anything to get too worried about, but Clint was starting to get a bad feeling about all of this.

* * *

Another thirty days passed, typical Avenger business keeping them occupied. At least nobody had tried to eat their planet or mutate the hell out of all of them. 

So, almost Banner time. Hulk said that Banner hadn't talked to him in weeks. Clint asked him if that was normal, and Hulk had shrugged.

“What's normal?”

Hulk had left Banner alone, he'd said. If Banner wanted to talk, he'd talk. 

If Banner refused to come out today, that would make four months since his last time outside. It hadn't been Clint who'd babysat him the two times before that. He remembered he'd been busy and oddly disappointed to have missed seeing Banner.

So where had he been the two times Banner came out to play with one of the other Avengers? He asked JARVIS to project his personal calender, and he flipped back through the months.

Right. First time he'd had to miss babysitting Banner, he'd been away helping out Black Widow, for old time's sake. He'd figured someone else, Cap, or maybe Janet, had taken over being Banner's bodyguard. 

Thirty days later, he'd been in the hospital. It had been annoying that some goon from AIM had managed to explode some doohickey and knock him out. Hulk had saved his ass, he'd been told, absorbing most of the blast himself. 

Clint had spent the next two days woozy, confined to bed. He didn't even try to sneak out, which was a record for him because he hated doctors and hospitals. Well, Cap had kind of made that impossible by camping out in Clint's room. Hulk hadn't stuck around very long in Clint's boring hospital room while Clint was seeing double, so he figured Banner had kept to the schedule. He'd told himself that he didn't care that he wouldn't be chauffeuring one of their resident geniuses around this time. 

Maybe Thor had hung out with Banner. Wrapped him up in a warm blanket and flown him with his magic hammer to a lake so the guy could throw his fishing line in the water. 

If so, Thor probably wouldn't volunteer again to sit in a boat and be bored to tears while Banner soaked up some peace and quiet. Clint had yet to see the guy actually catch a fish; not even a minnow had ever tugged at his line.

No, the other Avengers were definitely the B plan when it came to keeping an eye on Banner. Clint wanted to do the job. For Hulk, of course.

And he kind of missed flying Banner around. 

He asked JARVIS for a rundown on where the other Avengers were, needing some intel on Banner's last times with the team. Steve, Tony, and Hulk were training. Jan was in her bedroom, and Thor had just come in from flying around the city on patrol. He got out his card and called Jan and Thor to meet him in the kitchen.

* * *

They were sitting at the kitchen table, Jan drinking iced tea, and Thor enjoying an Ale 8. Clint knew he liked that drink and besides, the smile on his face said it all. 

“Hey, guys,” Clint said. “This won't take long.” 

“Hawkeye, join us, for indeed, this drink is refreshing.”

Jan said, “I think it's the ginger in it. Or maybe the citrus.”

Clint sat down with them. “Maybe later. Listen, remember a few months back when I was gone for a while, helping the Widow with an op?”

“You told me you broke up with her for good that time. Are you getting back together?” Jan asked.

“What? No. Friends only.”

“What's this about?” Jan took a sip of her iced tea.

“I couldn't babysit Banner because I was gone. So who did hang out with him? Or did he just stay in the mansion?”

Thor said thoughtfully, “Nay, Bruce Banner did not exchange places with Hulk while you were away.”

“He's right, Clint. Hulk stayed Hulk.”

Clint frowned. “Well, did anybody watch Banner the next month when I was in the hospital? “

“I didn't,” Jan said. “Gosh, I feel awful. I kind of forgot he was due for a turn. Thor, did you talk   
to Bruce when Clint was injured from that AIM bomb?”

“I did not. I do not believe he joined us. Hawkeye, you are concerned, are you not?”

“It's been six months, at least, since Hulk changed back to Banner. He's been refusing to come out, you know. I don't like it.”

“Cap might have--” Jan said.

“Nah. Cap was with me at the hospital.”

“Maybe Tony nabbed him to do science stuff when you were sick?” Jan asked, hopefully.

Clint looked up at the ceiling. “JARVIS, has Bruce Banner worked with Tony in the last six months?”

“No, Master Barton. Scanning my logs shows that Doctor Banner has not appeared at all in this residence since the day that Falcon and the Red Hulk attempted to abduct him.”

“Ut-oh,” Jan said. “I didn't realize--”

“I'm going to talk to Hulk when he's finished with training. I really think Banner needs to show up this time. I wanna check him out.”

“I'll go with you,” said Jan. “Just call me.”

“Thanks,” Clint said.

“I, too, will be there.” said Thor, got up, and clapped Clint heartily on the back. “I shall escort Hulk to you when he tires of sparring.”

* * *

 

“Banner is stubborn. Won't talk to me, won't say why he doesn't want to come out,“ said Hulk. They were in the living room, just Thor, Clint, and Hulk. Jan was on her way.

Clint blew out his breath. “Hulk, old buddy. Can you make him come out here anyway?”

“Why should I?” Hulk frowned.

“We did a little checking and nobody's seen him for a long time. I figured that Cap or Wasp or Thor had hung out with him while I was gone with Natasha or in the hospital, but that didn't happen.”

Thor added, “Friend Hulk, we fear something is amiss with your small self.”

Hulk frowned. “Huh. Don't like forcing him to do something he doesn't want to do. We've both had too much of that.”

“Yeah,” said Clint, “the Enchantress, Ross, S.H.I.E.L.D., they've all messed with you two. But you're my friend. We're not asking because we want to control you or him. We just want to make sure he's okay. Aren't you worried, too?”

A strange look crossed Hulk's face, and he said, “Banner was listening. He still says no.”

Clint grumbled, “I think I wanna wring his scrawny neck. JARVIS, tell Tony and Cap to assemble in the living room. I think we need reinforcements to figure this mess out.”

 

* * *

“Okay,” Tony said, “Hulk, is Bruce afraid to change back?”

“Doesn't feel like it.” Hulk was standing with his arms crossed across his mighty chest. He wasn't angry, not exactly, Clint thought, but he was getting annoyed. Clint wasn't sure if that annoyance was directed towards the other Avengers or at Banner. 

Wasp shrank and then flew over to Hulk and sat on his shoulder. “After what happened with Hank, we should check on Bruce. After all, he was the one kept in that cell. Maybe he's not doing so well, you know?”

Tony made a sound of agreement. “They kept him restrained a lot and drugged up, we know that. And he was just sitting on the floor when we came to get him released the first time. He was really listless.”

Steve looked troubled. “He wasn't even conscious when Jan and I broke into his cell on the helicarrier. Who knows what else they did to him?”

Clint said, “Maybe Hulk knows.” 

Tony looked at Hulk. “When Banner is out, how much do you know about what's going on?”

Hulk frowned. “Only what Banner wants to share with me. He didn't share about being in that cell.” 

Clint saw Hulk start to tap fingers against his opposite arm, and knew it wouldn't be long before Hulk would either put a stop to the questions, or he'd kick Banner out to answer them himself.

Steve looked thoughtfully at Hulk, the aura of “Captain America believes in you” projecting from him in full force. Come to think of it, it usually was the way Steve treated Hulk. He was always unfailingly kind to Banner, too, never teasing him the way that Clint couldn't resist doing.

“Hulk, I've never known you to do anything but the right thing. So, what do you think is the right thing to do for yourself and Doctor Banner?” Steve said.

“Banner is being stupid. Won't talk to me. We made a deal, and I'm in charge of our body. I'm going to make him come out. You talk to him, find out if something is wrong.” 

Hulk began shrinking and Wasp fluttered away from him, resuming her normal human size.

It didn't take long before Banner was there. Clint took a few steps towards him before he made himself stop.

Banner was too thin. He always was a skinny, scrawny guy, but he was noticeably thinner now. His eyes looked even bigger, and he bent over and put his hands on his knees, breathing like he'd run a marathon.

“Hey,” Clint said loudly, “was he this skinny when Ross had him in that mountain prison? Didn't those bastards feed him?” 

“He might have lost some weight in that cell, but nothing like this. Bruce, how are you?” Tony asked, crossing his arms, 

“I'm... fine.” 

Clint snorted.

Tony's right eyebrow lifted. “Uh-huh. Feel like explaining why you haven't been taking your day off for the last six months?” 

Tony was looking mildly guilty, and Clint guessed that he really hadn't thought much about Banner at all since they'd proved that Ross had stuck that awful brain gizmo in Banner's head. Hulk had seemed fine when he'd come back to help them fight Galactus. 

Banner straightened up, a pained look on his face. “I don't want my day off!” He clenched his fists and they all watched as his size increased and his skin turned that shade of Hulk green. 

When Hulk was totally back, he looked around. “What happened?” He looked off to the side for a moment, a gesture they'd all seen enough times to know that he was seeing a visualization or hallucination of Banner.

Hulk growled, then said, “He's still not talking, just wants me to stay me and says he's not coming back, ever. Huh. We'll see about that. I'm in charge, and I say he's coming out and staying for a week. You guys fix him, because he's broken.”

Hulk shrank down, and it was always weird to see that huge, strong body became their little scientist. 

A scientist who fell to his knees and hit the floor with his fist. “No!” He started to gain size again, his pale skin tingeing green, his eyes shifting to vivid green.

When Banner was not yet halfway transformed back to Hulk, he started shrinking down again. Clint almost bit his own tongue at the sight.

“Not doing this,” Banner rasped out, when his eyes had turned brown and he was almost slumped over on the floor. He was having trouble catching his breath, but he hit the floor again and again.

Wasp started to go to him, but Tony held her back. “Wait a second, Jan. Let him stop trying to transform. Thor, do you think Jane could come over and check Bruce out? His breathing... Oh, Odin's Beard.”

Clint wondered when Tony had started picking up Thor's favorite curses, and then his eyes widened, because Banner was trying again to change back to Hulk.

Hulk sent him back to being Banner before he'd even grown to the size of Captain America and his skin had only turned a pale shade of mint. His eyes seemed to have green sparkles, which quickly disappeared and once again Bruce Banner, thin and kinda short, was back.

He was the most stubborn person Clint had ever seen.

They all watched, horrified, as Banner kept trying to wrest control of his body away from Hulk, and once again become their big green comrade. Hulk kept reversing the transformations as soon as Banner's muscles started swelling.

“House?”

“Yes, Master Thor?”

“Would you please call my sweet Jane and ask her to attend to Doctor Banner? It is alright if she comes in the screaming vehicle. I fear that our friend may be in need of her machines and medicines.” Thor looked flustered, maybe because this was a problem he couldn't fix with his hammer.

Banner was back on his knees, and he wasn't talking. Instead he was breathing with great gasps, slumped over till his forehead was touching the floor. 

He looked like a small, miserable ball of humanity. Cap and Jan went to him, kneeling down next to him, Cap's hand on his back, Jan running her fingers through his mop of hair.

He tried to wave them off with one hand, and damned if he didn't start trying to transform again.

Deciding he'd had enough of Banner's bullshit, Clint strode over to where Banner had scooted away from Steve and Janet. The guy didn't seem to have enough energy left to hit the floor anymore, but he was clenching his fists, his eyes narrowing with the effort to change, almost rocking on the floor.

Clint reached down and got him by his biceps and hauled him up, disturbed by how easy it was. Clint shook him a little, and frowned when he saw Banner had screwed his eyes shut.

“Look, you idiot. Stop it. Just stop it. Hulk says you're out here for a week, and he's a hell of lot stronger than you are. You can't fight him like this, it's tearing you up.” Clint was angry himself by now. 

“You... can't... tell me... what... to do.” Banner had gasped, but Clint could feel Banner's arm muscles becoming even more limp. If Clint hadn't been holding him steady, the guy would have collapsed.

Well, it looked like Clint had gotten what he'd asked for. Banner was angry, not the Hulk, and that was a first as far as Clint knew. He'd wanted to see Banner drop the calm and cool routine and actually express some real emotions. Clint didn't feel as vindicated as he thought he would. 

Banner hadn't tried to change in the last minute, so maybe he'd given up. 

“Hey, are you done acting up now?” Clint said gruffly.

Banner's eyes slowly opened and they looked hazy. He seemed to semi-focus on Clint. His breathing was too fast, like he couldn't get enough oxygen. “Hawkeye... your arm... I'm sorry... Hulk?”

He tried again to blow himself up big and green. Clint gave a startled yelp as he felt Banner's muscles pulsing, rippling, under Clint's hands. Before he could tower over Clint, he stopped changing. The transformation reversed and Banner's confused brown eyes met his. “Clint,” he whispered. 

Hulk must have slapped him down pretty hard this time, because Banner's skin faded to dead white, his eyes rolled up, and he passed out. 

Clint pulled him close, noticing the sweat that had darkened Banner's hair and how a few drops were still making their slow way down the side of his face.

Shifting Banner, holding the guy against him with one arm, Clint got his other arm under Banner's knees and picked him up. Banner was totally out of it, limp. 

Outside, Clint could hear an ambulance screaming into the driveway.

JARVIS announced, “Jane Foster has arrived with an ambulance crew. I'll let them in, shall I? Master Barton, perhaps if you could carry Doctor Banner to Hulk's room and place him on the bed?” 

Tony and Steve followed him to Hulk's bedroom, and Thor headed toward the front door. Janet flew ahead down the hall to Hulk's room and changed back to her normal size to open the door. 

She pulled the covers down and Clint carefully laid Banner down on the sheets. He was still very pale, and his freckles stood out in brown patterns on his cheeks and his shoulders. Funny. Clint hadn't noticed before that Banner was freckled all over. 

Clint took it back. Banner didn't actually need to shave off his stubble in order to look about twelve-years-old. Him lying there in Hulk's huge bed just added to that illusion.

Janet brushed his damp hair off his forehead, and Clint used two fingers to take his pulse, holding them against the side of Banner's neck. It was too fast and fluttery. His breathing was still erratic, too.

Clint laid a palm against Banner's chest, then felt his arms and hands. Banner was cold. He might be going into shock, so Clint grabbed a couple of pillows and stuffed them under Banner's slender feet. Cap moved to the end of the bed and pulled a light blanket free and handed it to Clint. He arranged it over Banner so the EMT's could easily move it, hoping it would help warm the guy back up. He caught Tony's eye and shrugged. He had a feeling there was going to be a team meeting about Bruce Banner in the very near future.

Thor, Jane, and two other EMT's came quickly into the room, and Clint stepped back. Jane and a red-headed EMT donned gloves and started attaching things to Banner's arms and fingers, calling out numbers for the tall one to record.

* * *

“Okay, one at a time, what happened?” Jane asked, calm and professional. Clint knew that Thor was smitten with her, intrigued with her willingness to face danger to care for the injured. “Clint?” She grabbed the clipboard while the red-head pulled back Banner's eye lid and shone a light in his eye. 

Clint stopped staring at Banner and turned to face her. “Okay.” 

Clint started to explain what had happened, but the red-head held up a hand to stop him. 

“This little guy is the Hulk?” His eyes swept over Banner dismissively. “You sure?” 

Clint wanted to give him a nice hard punch in the kisser. “Look, pal, he's Bruce Banner and he's the Hulk. Deal with it.”

The EMT shone the light in Banner's other eye. There was absolutely no movement, no blinks, and Clint's stomach started tying itself into knots. 

Jane said briskly, “Clint, go on.” She shot a look at the red-head. He shrugged and started wrapping a blood pressure cuff around Banner's upper arm. 

When Clint was done, Jane questioned the others about Banner's collapse, double checking about any seizures or head injuries, and asking if Banner had taken any drugs, either a prescribed medicine or something off the streets. The EMTs were competent people, and they were working hard on Banner, who still hadn't twitched a muscle.

The red-head said, “Jane, you told us these guys are your friends, but we're gonna have a big problem, and you know it.”

“I know the protocol as well as you do, Michael.” Jane told him evenly.

Michael, the red-head, glanced at all of them and said, “I'm sorry. He doesn't look like he'd be trouble, but with him being the Hulk--” 

Jan said, “Protocol? What protocol?”

Michael inserted a thermometer in Banner's ear. “Since he's the Hulk, we're going to have to treat him as a bio-hazard.”

“Oh, you mean because of Bruce's blood?” Jan bit her lip.

Jane nodded. “Yes, that, and there are other precautions that have to be taken,” and motioned for the group to move to one side. 

“What precautions are we talking about, Miss Foster,” Steve asked.

“I'll explain in a moment. First off, we're going to take him in for more tests as soon as he's ready to be transported.” 

The other EMT, the one who hadn't said a word, tied a rubber strip around Banner's arm and started swabbing his skin with alcohol pads.

Jane said, “We're starting an IV to keep him hydrated, give him some energy,” and she got out tubing and a fluid filled bag.”

Clint watched them stick Banner with a needle as they set up the I.V.

“He didn't even flinch,” Jan said, sounding worried.

Jane said, “If he's as non-responsive in six hours as he is now, he'd only get a three on the Glasgow Coma scale.”

Tony made an unhappy sound, and Clint asked, “What's that mean?”

Jane said gently, “I'm sorry. It's not good, Clint. If he's still like this hours from now, it means he's in a deep coma.”

Thor asked, “A deep sleep, then? As my father sleeps?”

Jane said, “I don't think so. For humans, a coma is not the same thing as being asleep. We'll try to find a reason for his collapse, but if it involves some sort of internal conflict between him and the Hulk, we're in uncharted territories.”

Clint wanted to shake Banner again, wake him the fuck up, but he didn't move. He wasn't an idiot. Doing that wouldn't help him. 

Steve said firmly, “Miss Foster, we appreciate everything you and your partners are doing. You said precautions. What are the rest of them?”

“He'll have to be admitted to a S.H.I.E.L.D. medical facility.”

“Why S.H.I.E.L.D?” Tony asked. “Your hospital is top-notch, and it's closer.”

“I know. We can't take him there.” Jane sounded regretful.

“We're talking about the same hospital that's treated me and Captain America, and Wasp? But Doctor Banner, a genius who saved us all from being turned into gamma radiation monsters, isn't allowed in?” Clint asked angrily.

“Have a care, archer. My Jane does not set the rules for her place of healing. Do not castigate her for something over which she has no control,” Thor warned, a storm warning clear on his face.

Jan put her hands on her hips. “Bruce has had some bad experiences with S.H.I.E.L.D. He wouldn't want to be treated there.”

“Thor told me how Doctor Banner was kept on the helicarrier on false charges, ”Jane said. “I'm sorry, but our hospital can't accept him.”

Jan said, “Jane?”

“It's because of the Hulk. My bosses are afraid that he might... smash the hospital.” 

Clint said coldly. “Hulk wouldn't--”

“I mean, if he were delirious or not aware of what he was doing. Protocol says send him to S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Clint snarled, “You can take that protocol and--”

Michael interrupted. “Jane, I'm putting him on oxygen. His levels have dropped again.”

Jane said, “This is not personal. He's not the only one, any superhero or super-villain with incredible strength or damaging powers is listed.”

“Name one,” Clint snapped out. 

“Ben Grimm, the Thing. I'm sorry. But from what I know of Doctor Banner, he'd be the last person who'd want to put other hospitalized people or the staff at risk. It's hard enough to keep a normal person from hurting staff and destroying equipment if they go into a rage from being in an altered state. We really wouldn't have any way to stop someone like the Hulk.” 

Jane sounded apologetic, and reluctantly, Clint could see the hospital's point. But S.H.I.E.L.D.? Clint could picture the bleak look on Banner's face when he woke up there, assuming that once again he was a prisoner.

Jane moved to Banner's side, and talked quietly with the other EMTs. They transferred Banner onto the gurney and strapped him in. 

“Tony, can't we keep him here in our clinic? You found the antidote to that illness the Red Skull gave us working from there,” Clint said, feeling like he was grasping at straws.

“I don't know if it's suitable or not. It's designed more as a first aid station and research lab.” Jane was taking Banner's blood pressure. “Jane, I know Thor gave you a tour of our medical clinic. Which would be better for Bruce?”

She looked at the reading and frowned. “For now, S.H.I.E.L.D. is the better choice. You don't have all of the equipment to run tests and Doctor Banner is probably going to need to see several specialists.” 

Tony stroked his beard, “Can you ballpark it for us? What's wrong with him?” 

Jane said, ”I'm an EMT, not a doctor, but I think his condition is partly neurological. His breathing--it's ataxic, it's erratic, even with the oxygen we've got him on. He's very seriously ill. He's malnourished, and underweight, too, which means he's going to have a harder time coming out of this. And he's the Hulk. That has to be taken into account.”

Clint said, “S.H.I.E.L.D. got any docs that understand how Banner and Hulk work?” 

Jane said, “I hope so.” She started gathering up equipment, and Clint could hear the tall EMT calling S.H.I.E.L.D., explaining about Banner's physical condition. 

Tony muttered, “Nobody knows how Bruce and Hulk work. They turn the laws of physics inside out and upside down.”

Jane stopped packing; her expression turned to one of uncertainty. “Actually, there is someone I think you could consult. This doctor has a background in neurology, but he's not one of the hospital's current docs, although he was on the roster years ago. I'm not sure if he actually has a practice anymore or not.”

Tony said, straightening, “Who's that doctor, Jane?” 

“His name is Stephen Strange. He was hurt badly in an accident, couldn't do surgery anymore. I know he had a rough time for quite a while. I think he went into alternative medicine.”

“How alternative?” Tony asked.

“People say that he became some sort of mystic.”

“Oh, great. Hoo-doo. Jane, Bruce needs help, not magic tricks,” Tony scoffed.

“But Doctor Banner and the Hulk being two people sharing a body, or one person with two bodies, well, I think that might be considered mystical territory,” Jane said.

Clint shrugged. “I say it's worth a shot. Takes one to know one, an' all.”

Thor looked puzzled and Jan said, “He means that Bruce being the Hulk is weird, so maybe a doctor who knows about weird can help him.”

Tony looked like he'd just sucked on a lemon. “Jane, where can we find Doctor Mumbo-jumbo?”

Jane said hesitantly, “I don't know exactly.”

“JARVIS?” Tony asked.

“Doctor Strange is not listed in the phone book, sir.”

Jane snapped her fingers. “I've heard, from street talk, that he's friends with Spiderman. I don't know how to contact him, either.”

Steve said, “I'll try to track down Spiderman. I have a pretty good feel for the places he patrols.” 

“Okay,” Tony agreed. “JARVIS and I will do some research, see if we can send him or Doctor Strange a message.”

Steve left the room.

Clint added, “Tony, Fury or Hill will need to okay this guy checking Banner out, I think.”

Tony nodded. “I'll handle S.H.I.E.L.D. And one of us needs to stay on monitoring duty in case of trouble.”

Thor said, “The house and I shall stand watch, and sound the alarm should the Avengers be needed.”

The other two EMTs started to push the gurney towards the bedroom door. Jane took a deep breath, and said, “I hate to tell you all this, but S.H.I.E.L.D. is going to insist that he be placed in a cell for security purposes. They'll bring the medical equipment to him.” 

“A cell? I'm going with Banner. Somebody's got to have his back with S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Clint said emphatically.

Me too.” Wasp looked troubled, not an expression she usually wore on her pretty face, except when she and Pym had been at odds with each other. 

Jane patted her on the arm as she passed her. Everybody but Tony crowded out of the room, forming an escort around the gurney. 

Jan looked at Banner and then at Clint as they walked. “This is just awful. He looks bad, Clint. And Bruce and Hulk, they're my friends. Okay, I know Hulk much better, but I really like Bruce, even if I don't know him as well. I feel like I've let him down.”

“Jan, it's not you. Banner just keeps to himself. He hardly ever talks to anybody.”

“He talks to you.” 

“Once in a while, yeah. But mostly, it's me doing the talking.” And being a dick, usually, Clint thought. 

“Before, on your trips? Did he seem okay to you, Clint?”

They'd reached the front lobby and Thor stopped walking. Clint darted ahead to open the door for the EMTs. Thor said, “Hawkeye, tell Doctor Banner that the Son of Odin gladly will guard him while friend Hulk sleeps,” and waved his arm in a farewell-shield-brothers-and-sister kind of way.

Steve caught up to them and said, “Keep in touch with Tony.” He went out the open door in a fast jog, his shield on his back. 

The gurney was rolled to the back of the ambulance, and the crew stowed equipment.

“Jan, I dunno if he was really okay or not. He wanted to do his experiments and he wanted to be outside. But he seemed – guarded a lot. Like he shouldn't relax.”

Jan said, “He was kept in cells. I think I'd want to stay outside, too.”

“Right,” Clint said. He'd been glad to breathe fresh air after escaping from the Vault.

Jan's expression became thoughtful. “You know, I've been thinking, and I can't remember ever hearing Bruce laugh, or even really smiling. Not a real one, one where he can't stop grinning.”

She shrunk then and perched herself near Banner's head.

Banner's eyes were still shut.

 

* * *

Clint rode in the back of the ambulance, Wasp keeping her place by Banner's ear. A S.H.I.E.L.D. escort met them shortly after the ambulance pulled away from the mansion, four SUVs and a helicopter above them.

Clint supposed that if Hulk came out and was pissed, the EMTs would abandon ship. He wished Hulk would relent and change places with Banner, so Clint could see if he was okay. Maybe it would cure Banner, if he sent him out afterward. It was possible. Who knew how the two of them worked. 

Jane adjusted Banner's oxygen cannula, and then took his pulse again. Clint caught her eye when she was finished. 

“So, the helicarrier?” Since Banner had been kept there after he'd been captured the last time, Clint figured it was a good bet that the ambulance was heading towards the docks. They'd probably transfer Banner to a helicopter there, then fly him out to the helicarrier. 

“Yes. And I'll be going with Doctor Banner, to transition his care to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s doctors.”

“Well, at least that's closer than that lockdown Ross stuck him in up in the mountains.” Clint stared at Banner. Suddenly he regretted telling the guy that he wasn't an Avenger. It was true, but he should have kept his big mouth shut. It might have made Banner feel happy to think that he and Hulk both were part of the team. 

Clint had been thinking about what Janet had said, while the ambulance tore through the streets, lights flashing and sirens screaming. Other than the one time when Hulk had laughed at him, then transformed back to Banner, who had inherited Hulk's guffaws, Clint thought she was right.

He couldn't remember Banner laughing or smiling about anything, either.


	3. Chapter 3

_Clint_

It took thirty-six hours for Doctor Strange to show up at the helicarrier and take over Banner's care. Clint knew, from having a furious conversation with Maria Hill earlier over the comm system, that Fury only allowed it because S.H.I.E.L.D.'s doctors were stumped.

Now Hill was in Banner's cell, staring assessingly at Banner as he lay comatose. He looked harmless and vulnerable, the last person you would imagine as the Hulk. There was no chance now of Hulk showing up. The gamma dampeners in the cell took care of that.

Hill switched her focus to Clint, narrowing her eyes. “Fury's allowing Doctor Strange access to Banner, but we're going to keep eyes on him. The first time he does something that might compromise the safety of our agents or the helicarrier, we'll deal with him. He won't like it. So, Barton, since it seems that you've put yourself in charge here, keep Strange in line.”

“When will he be here?” Clint indicated Banner with his thumb, moving over to stand next to his hospital bed. “Your guys have come up with zip on how to bring him out of this.” 

Jan was next door, bunking in a spare bed, getting some sleep. Clint had been too restless to sleep, or even sit quietly in a chair. He kept patrolling the room, eying the gamma dampener outlets high in the ceiling, thinking about how he could shoot them with an electrical charge arrow to disable them. Just in case Hulk did want to come out.

“Fury's talking with Doctor Strange right now.” She looked at Banner again, and her expression hardened. “Maybe the best thing for everybody would be if he just stayed in a coma.”

Clint exploded. “The Hulk is a damn hero! When will S.H.I.E.L.D. give hounding him a rest? And it's not anybody but S.H.I.E.L.D.'s and the Army's fault that Bruce Banner was on the run and had to defend himself. Didn't anybody ever think to maybe try to help the guy learn to cope with what happened to him in that fucked up experiment? No, S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Army, Ross especially, just went gunning for him. He's a genius. Einstein level of smarts, we're talking. I watched him come up with the antidote to the Leader's gamma craziness, and it was impressive. The world could have used his talents, and instead he had to spend years hiding and probably starving half of the time, when he wasn't fighting to stay free.” 

Clint couldn't keep his tone of voice respectful, but what the hell. He didn't work for her anymore; he could have an attitude if he wanted, and boy, did he want to unload after watching Banner's vital signs go slowly downhill for the last day and a half. 

“You've never talked with him, have you, Assistant Director Hill?” he snarled. 

“What's your point, Barton?” Hill replied, and she took a step closer to him.

“Well, if you had you'd know that he's a gentle kind of guy.”

Hill looked at him incredulously. “Are you kidding me! He levels buildings!” 

“If he does, then he's got a good reason. Look. He puts everybody else first, before himself. Even Hulk. Did you know that he only returns to being Banner once every thirty days? How selfless is that?”

Hill looked down at Banner. “That's not in our files. What's his angle?”

Clint blew out a long breath, tired. “He did it, he explained to the rest of us, so that Hulk could have a chance to show that he's a good guy, a real hero.”

“The Hulk can't be trusted.”

“I trust Hulk with my life. So do the rest of the Avengers.”

“Why?”

Clint shrugged. “I know from experience Hulk will sacrifice his own safety to save someone. Out in the desert, after he showed up in Vegas, he could have run for it and he didn't, just so some S.H.I.E.L.D. agents could live another day.” 

Hill's dark eyes sharpened. “Who? This wasn't in any reports.”

He pointed at his chest. “Me. And Natasha. He intercepted a missile Ross fired that would have creamed me and the Widow. He took that hit for us, even though we were trying to take him down.”

“Why am I just now hearing about this?”

Clint gritted out, “My bad. I didn't finish my paperwork because you know, _S.H.I.E.L.D._ believed Natasha that I was a double agent and stuck me in the Vault. Then I quit.” 

“Well, make your report now.”

“Hulk also saved my ship. The only reason Bobbi Morse and the others are alive is because of him. I admit that I don't have a clue how Banner and Hulk work exactly, but Hulk gets who he is from Banner. So don't go saying that it would be better for us for him to be in a coma.”

He glanced down. Banner wasn't getting better. He might even--”

He crowded her. Almost shaking, he glared, and said, with as much menace as he could, “Don't you ever imply things would be fine if he croaked.” 

Hill gave him a look, her dark brown eyes steady. “Back off, Barton. Cool down, or you're out of here.”

He stared hard at her for just a shade over what he guessed she would tolerate and then stepped away. He put his hand on Banner's chest.

Hill raised an eyebrow. “You know, it's just as well you quit S.H.I.E.L.D. , Hawkeye. Your tendency to be insubordinate and that disrespectful mouth of yours would have gotten you in trouble eventually with us.”

“You want to hear what my insubordinate mouth has to say about--”

“Shut it, Barton. Remember why I'm allowing you in here.” She gestured with her thumb towards the bed.

She gave him a tight smile. “But you were a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent once and a damn good one. Tell you what, I'll take you up on that suggestion. If Banner recovers, he and I will have a conversation.”

Clint counted to ten in his head, then crossed his arms over his chest. “Only if I'm around and he can see me. He doesn't have any reason to believe a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent would talk to him without gloating or tricking him somehow. Did S.H.I.E.L.D. even apologize to him for keeping him captive when it was the Red Hulk who wrecked the helicarrier, not him?”

Hill was silent, so, no, neither Banner nor Hulk had received any apology. 

She eyed him speculatively. “You're pretty protective of Banner. What's he to you, Barton? Just a teammate, a fellow Avenger?” 

 

Clint just smirked. He didn't mind bamboozling Hill and S.H.I.E.L.D. about this at all. He didn't have any hang-ups about being bisexual. 

“A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, Assistant Director Hill,” he said piously.

Hill snorted. “ A gentleman, no. I was asking you, Barton.” She looked at Banner again, another speculative look on her face. “Don't you Avengers feed him? You should get him cleaned up. He looks unkempt, and that's not just from being sick. Get your boy here a haircut if he comes out of this coma. Talk him into shaving off that scruff, since he can't really pull off a decent beard. Of course, you'll look like you're robbing the cradle then. Those freckles make him look like Tom Sawyer.”

Clint suddenly felt the hours of no sleep catching up with him. Jesus, he was tired. And he was tired of fencing with Hill. “That's a problem I won't mind having, if he makes it through this.” Let S.H.I.E.L.D. think Banner was his boyfriend. Maybe that would make them less likely to mess with the guy in the future. Besides, Banner was the clueless sort. He probably wouldn't get it, if anybody from S.H.I.E.L.D. made some remark to him about being Clint's boy toy. 

They both looked towards the door as it opened, and a tall man, dark-haired with white at his temples walked into the room. The way he dressed made Clint a little nostalgic for the circus. He wore a long royal-blue tunic-shirt, a broad yellow sash around his waist, trousers that looked like leggings, and some outlandish bauble was hanging around his neck. He topped off the colorful ensemble with a red cape. He and Thor would look a pair if they ever met up. This had to be Doctor Strange.

Strange spoke softly, but Clint heard what he said clearly. _I summon forth the all-seeing Eye of Agamotto! Now let my amulet open!_ Strange touched the amulet, and Clint blinked. The eye in the middle of it was open. That was weird. When he'd first glanced at it, he was sure that eye had been closed. He was an archer, a sniper. He didn't make mistakes about what he looked at. Ever.

Strange looked calmly at Clint and Hill, and his eyes moved to Banner. He studied him for a long moment, and then took Banner's chart from where it was hanging on the wall and started flipping through it.

“I'm Doctor Strange. Assistant Director Hill, is it not? You'll need to leave. In order to treat Doctor Banner, I require privacy.”

Hill rolled her eyes. “Are you joking? Look, Banner is under surveillance. That's not going to change. But I'm needed elsewhere, anyway, so I'm out of here.” She nodded at Clint. “Barton, I hope you know what you're getting yourself into, if he pulls through.”

When she'd left, Strange finished reading the chart and then gave Clint a penetrating stare for an uncomfortably long time, until Clint was ready to snap at him to take a picture. He managed to bite his tongue, though, because flaky as Circus Act here seemed, none of the other doctors had helped Banner. He was still a three on the Glasgow Coma Scale. So, maybe this guy could do something, and Clint would try to not tick him off.

Strange laid his hand on Banner's forehead and was quiet for ten minutes. Clint didn't disturb him. All he was doing was touching Banner, that seemed harmless enough. He ended his little creepy session by taking his palm and holding it above Banner's face a few inches and then slowly moving his palm down Banner's face and body, never touching him. Then he turned toward the door.

Jan stumbled in, her eyes still sleepy, her dark hair a little tousled. “Maria told me Doctor Strange was here. How's Bruce doing, Clint? Oh!” She startled when she caught sight of Strange.

Strange turned his gaze on her, and after he'd stared at her long enough that Jan had started to flush a little, he said, “Miss Van Dyne, correct? Known as the Wasp.”

“Yes, that's me. Hello. We're all hoping you can help Bruce.” Jan glanced down at Banner.

Doctor Strange looked down at him, too, then looked in her eyes. “Your friend has lost the balance he has so precariously maintained for so long. If he cannot find it again, he will remain adrift in this coma.”

Jan breathed out a soft, painful, “Oh.”

“I sense that you care for Bruce Banner and the Hulk. Will you lend them your strength?”

Wasp nodded frantically. “Bruce and Hulk are my friends. But Doctor, I really don't know Bruce very well. None of us do.”

“So I surmised, as I gazed at him with the Eye of Agamatto. He has been alone for a long time, and his spirit has been injured. He has forgotten the joy of companionship, and love. He has exiled himself, and is tempted by the siren call of oblivion.”

“The what kind of call?” Clint asked. 

“He would let the Hulk live, and Banner die.” 

Jan gasped. “Oh, Bruce.”

Clint heard the guy's words again in his head, and he felt numb, frozen. Banner didn't want... He couldn't complete that thought. Banner had looked at Clint with such earnestness when they'd met, challenging him. He'd been stoic and brave when he'd been caught. 

He remembered watching shooting stars with him and hearing Banner talk about the wonder he found in his work. Campfires, the cabin, watching him meditate in the garden. 

Strange turned to him. “And you, Clinton Barton. Your help would also be welcomed.”

Clint swallowed and nodded. 

“You have guarded this man fiercely in the past and stand by him now, weapons ready, should an enemy come to harm him. Through the Eye of Agamotto I see that the Hulk is your comrade and that a clear bond exists between you, one forged in battle and companionship.”

Strange gentled his voice. “Consider my words. You deny Bruce Banner the bond you share with the Hulk, but you would lay down your life to save his. You defend him with strong words to others, yet say nothing to him of the respect you feel for his intelligence or the anger you feel for the injustices he has endured. He intrigues you; you wish to stir him, to make him respond, and you feel frustration when he will not show the reactions you desire.” 

Clint opened his mouth and then shut it again. This guy, how--?

Strange pointed a long finger at him. “You appoint yourself his guardian, but in his mind you are nothing but his keeper. He feels you despise him and it is only your duty to the Avengers that keeps you by his side. Learn your own heart, Hawkeye.”

Clint felt his face twist up into a protest, because, hello, how the hell did he know what Clint thought about anything? It wasn't like they'd even exchanged two words.

But... this doctor was right. He'd nailed how Clint felt about Hulk and Banner, and if he was right, if Banner thought Clint despised him, then Clint was going to have words with Doctor Bruce Banner. Just because Banner wasn't an Avenger didn't mean he despised him. 

Strange motioned for Wasp to come to Banner's bed. “Janet Van Dyne, you have a good heart. You extended friendship to this man when most believed him to be evil. If you are willing, take his hand.” 

Jan moved quickly to Banner's side and picked up one of his hands, holding it tightly.

Strange looked again at Clint. “Bruce Banner is dying. When he does, perhaps the Hulk will return, or it may be that he will die as well. I cannot see their path beyond Banner's death.”

Clint felt his gut lurch. “Jesus.”

Strange kept looking intently at Clint. “Do you wish to lend them your strength to try to save them? They will know your feelings toward them, there can be no privacy between you.”

Clint shrugged, not much caring about that. Banner was fucking dying. “I'll help. What do you want me to do?”

“Take his other hand and join hands with Wasp.” Strange waited until Clint and Janet had linked their hands with Banner's limp ones in a circle. “Relax your minds, please. Think on Bruce Banner's and the Hulk's places within your hearts and within the Avengers.”

Strange placed one hand on Banner's forehead and the other one on Banner's chest. “You will observe, and he will know you are present and know your thoughts that are concerned with him, but you will not be able to directly communicate. The energy that requires is not something within your grasp. Get ready. It will help if you close your eyes.”

Clint let his eyes fall shut, feeling Banner's cold hand in his right hand and Jan's warm one in his left. He pictured Hulk, sharing a joke with him at Tony's expense.

He remembered Banner working in his cabin, intent and for once too involved in his research to keep that bland facade going. 

Strange began chanting in a low murmur. _“Banish despair through light. By the power that moves and breathes and flows and grows with us as one --may Nirvalon quash all despair through pure white light. Be done!_ ”

There was a bright flash of incandescent light Clint saw even though his eyes were still shut. A jolt ran through him, passing to Banner. From the gasp Janet made, he guessed she'd experienced the same thing. 

In his mind, he heard Strange tell him and Jan to open their eyes.

When he did, he found himself in a wooded area, partly up a mountain, the sound of rain patterning down on leaves making a kind of music. It looked to be South or Central America. He and Jan were standing next to each other. Banner was nowhere to be seen, but Clint spotted Doctor Strange all right. The guy was levitating in a cross-legged position, way, way up in the air in front of a large cave opening.

Jan shrank down and flew up to the cave's entrance. She disappeared inside, and Clint started climbing up the mountain as rapidly as he could, sometimes finding himself sliding back a little on the wet terrain before catching himself against a tree or grabbing a vine. 

It seemed like a long time before he scrambled into the mouth of the cave, damp from the light mist, and all he could think about during his climb was that Doctor Strange had said that Banner was dying. 

Clint wasn't having that. It made him furious that Banner thought so little of himself that he was willing to just kiss off. He was even more furious with himself, and to some extent, the other Avengers and Hulk, for not seeing what was going on right underneath their noses.

Doctor Strange was still levitating, like he was sitting on an invisible magic carpet right outside of the cave's entrance. Clint knew this wasn't happening in real life, that they were still in the helicarrier in Banner's cell. He and Jan were holding Banner's hands, and somehow Doctor Strange had sent them into Banner's mind. 

So okay. Weird, but you didn't stay an Avenger if you couldn't learn to roll with the weird. 

He'd check out this cave and see what was up. Jan hadn't flown out of here, so he figured that he was in the right place. The cave shaded from dim to barely visible once he'd gone around a bend. Jan had her stingers to light things up, but Clint pulled a small flashlight out from its snug place on his quiver and shone it ahead. 

He heard a familiar rumble then, an angry tone to the deep voice. Hulk was there.

Clint ran ahead, skidding to a slide on the damp rock. Catching himself, he turned another corner, feeling like he did as a battle began, sharp and observant, adrenaline shooting through his body, ready to let his reflexes take over to deal with the threat facing him.

Hulk was sitting on the ground, huffing impatiently. Clint walked over to him cautiously. It was never a good idea to startle the big guy. Jan was perched on his shoulder, and she patted Hulk a couple of times before flying off into a smaller side cave by Hulk's big green feet.

Clint waved at him. Hulk snorted. “You and Wasp aren't real. Don't know why I dreamed you up. But then, I shouldn't be real. I'm only around because Banner screwed up. And I wasn't wanted, not for a long, long time.”

Clint tried to answer him but found that words wouldn't form in his mouth. Instead, he pointed at Hulk, then at himself and held up two fingers tight against each other.

Hulk grinned, his teeth bright in the dimness. 

“Yeah, and Wasp was the first one to take my side. She likes to come and sit on my shoulder. She knows I'd smash anything that tried to hurt her. It makes her feel better.” 

Clint stepped closer to him, wondering if Hulk had just now learned that stuff about Janet. 

“So. Since Cupid's not really here and Wasp has gone to find Banner, think I'll indulge myself.” 

Hulk casually reached out and snagged him, then plopped him in his lap, two huge arms wrapped around him. 

At that touch, understanding flooded through him. He felt the utter confusion and fear Hulk experienced upon his moment of birth, and the pain that soon followed with men shooting guns at him. He felt what Hulk had felt: Banner's horror at what he had done to himself, and his determination to utterly kill his huge green alter-ego through wiping him out with more science. Then when Banner couldn't totally stop Hulk from breaking through when Banner was scared or hurt or angry, how he'd trained himself through meditation and yoga and even drugs to keep Hulk submerged. Hulk had been hurt by Banner's rejection, his hatred of Hulk a hatred of himself. 

Monster. That was what Banner and everyone else called him. And since Banner couldn't accept Hulk, when Hulk emerged his rage was two-fold. Anger at whoever or whatever was hurting him and anger at Banner for his denial of what Hulk was to him. Because they were not separate, not really. Hulk was Banner, the part of him that wanted to fight back, to stop the tormentors, his childhood wish to be powerful and strong granted like a fairy's wish, and like any dealing with the fairy folk, you might get your wish, but not in the way you thought. 

Banner might not like Hulk, but he needed him. Hulk rescued him and others over and over. Hulk might be angry, but he wasn't a monster. He didn't hurt people, not even those soldiers who kept finding his hiding places and who kept building bigger and bigger weapons to capture him. 

But Banner walled him out, wouldn't share any of his life with Hulk. 

Then Banner began to talk to him, said he was sorry for trying to destroy him. He said he was going to learn to live with him and asked Hulk what he wanted. 

Banner gave it to him. He let himself stay big and green for longer periods of time, and he began to teach Hulk about the world. He often told Hulk he was proud of him for the decisions Hulk made when he was the one outside. Even when Hulk was on the inside, Banner would talk with him, about things like ethics and morals and sacrifice and redemption. He said he liked being Hulk's mentor.

Clint saw himself and Natasha from Hulk's eyes, small, annoying, but clever hunters. Hulk admired them for their abilities, and the man with the bow was so quick and agile. Hulk didn't want to hurt them; he would run away so they wouldn't be able to keep up. 

Then Ross – Hulk despised him for forcing him to fight so often against the Army – had showed up. Ross didn't care if he killed people on his own side, as long as he could capture Hulk and experiment on him. Banner had explained how Ross said he belonged to the Army, that he was a weapon that needed to be recovered so more weapons could be made from his blood. 

Clint felt Hulk's decision to save the annoying aircraft and the two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents from the missile Ross had fired at them. Hulk knew he'd just given up his only chance of escape.

Banner didn't let Hulk experience any pain or suffering, the way Banner did, if he could help it. But sometimes Banner was hurt too badly and then Hulk would come out to help, if he could. Sometimes they used science, gamma dampeners, or strong drugs, to keep him locked away inside of Banner.

When Hulk had escaped from his gamma prison, Banner had told him he'd done the right thing by saving Doc Samson. He challenged Hulk to be a hero. Hulk had agreed to try, if he let Hulk stay out.

Hulk was tired of running, of not having a home, and he longed for something that Banner told him was friendship. Not that Banner had much of that, not anymore. Hulk wanted people to see him as a good person who would do good things. 

Joining the Avengers was his chance to do just that. Clint was surprised to feel just how nervous the big green guy had been about working with the Avengers. Trust was difficult to build, both with Banner and with the Avengers, but Banner gave him control and agreed to only be outside one day of the month. It had been a test, and Hulk had really thought Banner wouldn't do it. But he had. 

Trusting the Avengers took time. Hulk had never lived with other people before, or even had his own bed. The first one was too small, but Tony built him a bigger one, and he had a room of his own and a big house to live in. He'd been cranky a lot, scared about messing up. But he'd begun to think he might be able to do this, be an Avenger and a hero. That hadn't lasted. 

Amora the Enchantress had ruined those first attempts he'd had to trust the team, making him think they were tricking him. He'd left to sulk when she was defeated, sure that it was impossible for him to really be accepted.

Hawkeye had tracked him down in Canada. Hulk had dubbed him Robin Hood in his head. Hulk liked stories, and Banner often told him his favorites when Hulk was hiding from others in the jungle or caves or in the snow-covered lands. Men with weapons had hunted Robin Hood, too, but he fought for justice anyway. Like Hulk could do, Banner had told him.

This Robin Hood wasn't afraid of Hulk and he demanded to see Banner or he'd fight him. Hulk was so amused at that he laughed and let Banner change places with him. 

Hawkeye became a friend the day Hulk agreed to rejoin the Avengers. Hulk backed him up when Tony thought Clint might be a Skrull. The two of them liked to swim together, hang out, eat pizza, and watch Cap wipe the floor with Tony when he wasn't in his armor. Hulk thought Hawkeye was funny, and he enjoyed the back and forth teasing. 

They became bro's, according to Hawkeye. That empty place inside of Hulk didn't seem so big anymore when Hawkeye would nudge him or fight enemies beside him.

One day, Hulk realized that he loved Clinton Barton, Hawkeye. It made him feel content. When Banner and Hulk talked about it, Banner had smiled at him. 

Hulk dropped a kiss onto the top of Clint's head. Clint wiggled a little, and patted Hulk's arm. Hulk opened up his arms and Clint climbed out of his lap.

Clint held up his fist to Hulk, who gave him a bump with his own much larger one. It was an unspoken promise that he would have Hulk's back.

Huh. Hulk liked him. Really liked him, and he wasn't sure what he was going to do about that. They were friends, sure. Maybe even friends who might explore some other possibilities. But. Hulk seemed... well, kind of young, like a teenager.

Like most teens, he could be pretty self-absorbed at times, and a little oblivious to other people's needs. Hulk hadn't thought much about Banner's not wanting to take his day off, not until he realized Hawkeye and the others were concerned about Banner. He was plenty worried about him now, though.

Hulk looked him up and down and said, “You sure had a lot to tell me for a hallucination.”

Clint held out his hands in a “What?” gesture.

Hulk crossed his arms, looked thoughtful. “Hmph. I thought being in a circus would have been more fun.”

Clint didn't just roll his eyes, he practically rolled his whole body. Funny. He hadn't realized that Hulk was learning about him all the time he'd been learning about Hulk.

Hulk rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish look on his face. “And you like me just fine, but it's Banner you want to do things with, uh, a lot more than kissing.” 

Clint boggled at what Hulk had just said. Him, Banner. Sexy times together. He thought about it, flipping rapidly through his memories of being with Banner. Okay, fine. He wanted that. 

He made a face, understanding better ol' Doc Strange's advice that he needed to learn his own heart.

“You should go and tell him, hallucination. Maybe then he'll stop being so stubborn and come out of his hidey-hole.” 

It was like he'd been putting together pieces of a difficult puzzle for a long time. Now it was finished, and he could clearly see what the picture was all about. He wanted that skinny guy with his big brown eyes. He wanted to strip the clothes off him and run his hands over Banner's body and play connect the freckles with his tongue. He wanted to make Doctor Banner, boy genius, lose that calm manner of his and just fly apart, hear him beg Clint to touch him like that, again, and again.

A Clint Barton blow-job special should do the trick. 

If he went into that smaller cave, where Banner was hiding from life, and touched him, then Banner was going to know Clint wanted to have sex with him. Awkward, awkward, awkward. Because he was pretty sure that Banner didn't feel the same way about him. Doctor Strange had said Banner thought of Clint as his keeper. Someone who was only with him because it was his job, not because he actually liked him. And okay, he hadn't gone out of his way to let Banner know that he always volunteered for babysitting him. In his defense, though, he hadn't figured out that he did like him until now. Who knew?

He wondered if Banner had decided that none of the Avengers liked him. Hell, it had taken six months before they had even asked if he was okay. If anything, that was just ammunition for Banner's argument. 

Well, fuck that.

So Banner didn't like him very much. Clint was always up for a challenge. He'd get Banner to come around; he'd be nice to him for a change, and if he couldn't seduce one socially inept and sexually deprived scientist, then he'd eat his bow.

He'd start with touch, because he had a feeling Banner was starving for just normal human affection. Pats on his arm, slaps on the back, an arm draped around his shoulders, he'd have the guy dizzy with all the attention he planned on giving him. 

The Hulk didn't like shirts. When Hulk let Banner take his place, there would be a prime opportunity to be all over that half-naked body. Clint was good at improvising. Figuring out how many ways he could get his hands touching Banner's arms and chest would be entertaining, to say the least. 

Unless...

f Banner _truly_ wasn't interested then he'd keep his hands to himself. He wouldn't be creepy towards the guy. He'd keep things reined in at the buddy level, if he didn't get some feedback that Banner was enjoying what Clint planned.

But even if sex never happened, things were going to change. He'd get the guy to be his friend, at least. Banner needed one worse than anybody Clint had ever seen.

There was no use in stalling anymore. Who knew how long this mystical shit was going to last anyway, so he should just go find Banner and ‘fess up about his intentions.

On hands and knees, he crawled into the small cave until he could stand up again. He saw a dim light ahead. When he rounded another bend, he saw two figures. Banner was curled up on the ground, his back to Hawkeye and to normal sized Janet, whose hands were giving off a soft glow. Jan was patting Banner's back.

She shot a guilty look at Clint, when he knelt next to them. Giving Banner a small kiss on the side of his face, she scooted back far enough to give them some privacy, waving a hand to Clint.

Her message was clear enough. Clint felt like he did when he had an arrow ready, the split second before letting it fly. 

Once he did this, there was no taking it back. Banner was going to know all about his mixed-up feelings towards him. 

He stretched out his hand to imitate Jan, to pat Banner on his back. But Banner hadn't changed his posture for her, hadn't rolled over to look her in the eye or sit up.

Well. Begin as he meant to go on. Being subtle just wasn't Clint. Banner was at the point where something drastic needed to be done, or he'd die here in his mind, and very likely his body would, too. And Clint needed both of them to live. Hulk and Bruce.

Bruce. Clint rolled around the sound of Banner's name in his head, formed the word with his lips even though no sound accompanied his pronunciation. Bruce. Bruce Banner. Bruce Banner, genius, thin and boyish looking. How had Clint missed the cuteness factor with this guy? How had he not figured out his own attraction to Bruce?

Clint liked smart. He had liked that about Natasha, too, even more than her pretty green eyes and her looks. He'd flirted with Bobbi Morse during their mutual missions, and it wasn't just because of her blond hair and long legs and the dash of freckles across her cheeks. She was another smart one. Bobbi was actually Doctor Barbara Morse, scientist. Intelligence was such a turn on, and Bruce was brimming with smarts. His messy mop of light brown hair, his wary brown eyes and freckles, and those long legs didn't hurt, though.

He'd had years to convince Bruce to be with him and he'd wasted such opportunities. And now Bruce had abandoned wanting to be part of the Avengers. He’d even begun to abandon life in his own body.

Clint felt anger of his own boiling up, at Bruce for giving up, and at himself for being such a jerk to this guy who'd had nothing but crap shoveled on top of him since the first time he'd transformed into Hulk.

Still kneeling, Clint bent over Bruce, grabbing him firmly, yanking him away from the wall of the cave. Bruce's eyes, which had been closed, flew open as Clint got to his feet and dragged him backwards. 

Wha?” He sounded shocked but Clint didn't know whether it was from being manhandled or from the mental info dump about Clint and Clint's desire to do the horizontal bop with him. Bruce's arms were flailing; he was off-balance and couldn't get his feet under him. Clint didn't let go.

Clint crouched down, putting his back against the cave wall, ignoring how his quiver pushed against him. He decided to take a hint from Hulk— maneuvering Bruce, who'd stopped struggling, until he was firmly seated between Clint's legs. Clint draped his legs over Bruce's, partly to make sure he stayed put, partly to keep him warm. Bruce felt cold to him. 

He wrapped his arms around Bruce, whose back was rigid against his chest, and kissed him on his neck. Bruce started shaking his head back and forth in denial. Clint tightened his arms a little more and kissed him again.

Bruce was still stiff in his arms, but after the third kiss, Clint felt him tilt his head slightly, relaxing against Clint's chest, exposing his neck a little more. Clint took that subtle surrender as an invitation to keep kissing Bruce, who shivered when Clint laid delicate kisses on his ear. Okay. Found one erogenous zone.

Dazed, Bruce murmured, “I really am hallucinating.”

Clint wished he could actually talk to Bruce, tell him that he'd just figured out a few things, that it was going to be different now between them. He hoped that was what Bruce was feeling from him, but who knew what exactly Bruce was learning about him. Maybe more about Clint learning his craft as an archer during his time in the circus, maybe about some of the missions S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent him on.

He couldn't control what Bruce was learning, but he could use his lips and his arms to let Bruce know that he was wanted.

Those kisses started off as Clint's shorthand for “Hey, I like you. See, 'cause I'm kissing you,” but as he took in Bruce's life and feelings, he gentled them, hoping Bruce would take some comfort from the soft touch of lips to his skin. Now was not the time to be leaving hickeys. God, he'd kind of known that Bruce's life had sucked, but he hadn't known it had sucked way before he'd had his little accident with gamma radiation. 

All Clint could do was hold on to Bruce, riding out images and emotions so powerful, Clint felt like they could swamp him.

Mommy screaming. Hands coming at him, slapping him, gripping small arms too hard, twisting them, pain shooting through his body. Tossing him carelessly against walls, the nasty smell of cigarettes and Daddy's beer and booze, Daddy telling him he should have hidden faster. _”I sorry, I sorry, Daddy. Stop, stop!” ___

__Only it hadn't stopped. Not for years. Not until the police came and took Daddy away, and Bruce had to leave his mother's body there on the garage floor._ _

__Never feeling like he had a home, even though his aunt was kind enough to him. Feeling out of place, so much smaller and younger than the other kids in his classes._ _

__In trouble constantly for losing his temper and breaking things. Learning to not allow himself to feel anger, to just eat it instead, and somewhere deep inside he pulsed with self-hatred for not being strong enough to fend off bullies, and most of all, for not being able to stop his father from killing his mother._ _

__Embracing science, loving the scientific method because it was so rational, seeing the narrowed eyes of jealous peers and teachers, mentors, as he would leapfrog over their ideas. Being awarded scholarships, grants. He loved his research._ _

__Finding happiness and contentment in helping other people who needed it, traveling to Central and South America with various volunteer groups to help with medical and educational projects. Heading up the research project on a gamma resistant serum to protect soldiers._ _

__Falling in love. Betty Ross loving him back. Not even her father's disapproval could dim his joy at being with her._ _

__Deciding that he should be the one the serum was tested on. The accident, where he was bombarded with gamma radiation. Miscalculation or deliberate sabotage, he just didn't know._ _

__The first metamorphosis._ _

__Pain, fear, anger, outrage, the overwhelming desire to destroy the machines and guns that were hurting him. Seeing the fear in Betty's eyes before the Hulk took over completely and Bruce Banner was shoved into a place in the monster's mind._ _

__Horror when he came back to himself after that first transformation, mostly naked, cold, hungry and thirsty. Lost. So lost. General Ross, Betty's father, wanting to capture him._ _

__Cutting his ties to Betty, to his old life. Years spent hiding, running, battling the Hulk, trying to keep him contained. Hating his life; hating the Hulk._ _

__Always watching for the Hulkbuster units and Ross. Traveling. Dumpster diving. Blisters and calluses from manual labor in jobs where nobody cared about his name or ID. Hungry and cold and dirty far too often as he wandered, always on edge, never able to relax._ _

__Captured. Tortured under the guise of scientific experimentation. Hulk breaking them free. Captured again. General Ross gloating. Restraints, drugs that left him dazed and compliant. Being made to watch videos of the destruction the Hulk had caused. Noticing that the Hulk went out of his way to avoid hurting innocents. Making tentative overtures to Hulk. Realizing that Hulk was not a monster, that a cure was not the way for him and Hulk. Hulk was just as much a part of this person called Bruce Banner as was the guy in the original body._ _

__Escape again. Nightmares. Hiding himself in rainforests, Canada's wilderness, slums, sharing abandoned houses with junkies. Hitchhiking. Loneliness. Flashbacks. Forgetting Betty's voice, the shades of brown in her hair. Taking a risk and going back to Willowdale to see her. She'd moved on, had a new lover. She looked happy, so he was happy for her._ _

__Finding solace in the woods; learning to treasure small things that brought him happiness: A child playing peek a boo with him on a bus. Hulk jumping into waves for the first time. Tutoring whatever college or high school kids crossed his path in science and math. A ride out of the rain._ _

__Saving a pot-grower's life and working for him. Taking the money to buy lab equipment and construction supplies. He and Hulk collaborating on his hidden cabin in Canada, deepening the relationship between him and Hulk, slowly building trust on both sides._ _

__Catching wind of what S.H.I.E.L.D. was up to with the gamma transformed men and women in custody. Vegas. Forced to fight, Hulk taking over._ _

__Being in the Cube, arms restrained over his head, half-naked and cold, gamma dampeners holding back Hulk. Meeting Hawkeye again as Bruce, not Hulk, feeling an unreasonable hope that the man would do as Bruce asked and investigate S.H.I.E.L.D.'s purpose in experimenting with the prisoners._ _

__Encouraging Hulk to join with those superheroes who were trying to take down Graviton. Feeling proud of Hulk, and agreeing to stay submerged in Hulk's consciousness, only changing back to Bruce Banner once every thirty days._ _

__Watching as Hulk became an Avenger, encouraging him to make friends with his teammates, patiently trying to teach Hulk how to get along with them. Feeling a sense of satisfaction that his life was useful again, glad that he and Hulk had become Avengers._ _

__Meeting the other Avengers for the first time when he transformed back to Bruce Banner, feeling self-conscious and awkward, his pants in tatters. Jan: the nicest, giving him her boyfriend's clothes to borrow. Tony: friendly but distracted. Thor: confused as to how he could be Hulk, referring to Hulk as Bruce's ogre until Jan got him to stop. Hank: barely speaking to him before going back to his lab._ _

__Meditating out in the garden that first visit, enjoying the respite from the storm of Hulk's emotions. Surrendering his body back to Hulk, knowing that he was doing the right thing for him, giving him his chance to prove he was not a monster, no matter his size and his strength and his skin color._ _

__Staying with the Avengers and feeling a mixture of resignation and hurt that Clint didn't like him at all, but hiding it. Wondering why Clint always got stuck with the unwelcome job of keeping an eye on him._ _

__He and Hulk liked Clint a lot. He was funny and brave and clever, and he was Hulk's friend. He liked looking at Hawkeye's strong arms and his dark blue eyes, and watching him move, so agile, like a gymnast. Look, but not touch. Never touch. Nobody really touched Bruce anyway, except for Cap's hand on his shoulder during one of their infrequent talks. He still kind of treasured feeling Clint's arms around his bare chest when they rode his sky scooter to Bruce's cabin before going to stop the Leader._ _

__Clint liked to needle him. Bruce tried to not let it bother him, but sometimes he didn't want to stay calm or just ignore Clint. Sometimes he wanted to tell him off, or tease him, too. He often thought of what he would say back to Clint. He hardly ever slipped up and said it, though. Clint wanted him to, he knew. Sometimes, he felt that Clint was running experiments on him, to see how much of an ass Clint could be before Bruce got fed up. Clint didn't like it when he couldn't get a rise out of Bruce._ _

__Bruce didn't know how to open up anymore to others. Before he and Hulk had come to an understanding, he'd guarded his emotions like they were a pin in a bomb. If he pulled the pin, let himself react, then suddenly he wasn't Bruce but Hulk. The habit was still strong._ _

__Besides, Clint didn't like him, so there was no point in letting him know Bruce kind of wanted him or blowing up at him. He might stop spending any time with Bruce. Bruce treasured the attention he was given, but he made sure Clint didn't know that. Clint could be fun, and nice, generous, and he made Bruce want to laugh sometimes. He wouldn't risk that, but he was amused at Clint's antics. Even when Clint was cranky. Even when he'd kept calling Bruce princess on one of their camping trips._ _

__Bruce had slipped up that time. He'd been lulled by the intimacy of stargazing together. Plus, Clint had disarmed him when he'd handed him a treat, after trying to get Bruce to ask for it earlier. Bruce couldn't explain it to him, but Bruce didn't allow himself to want things. Even little things, because it was too easy to start wanting more and more._ _

__He especially couldn't ask for things he worked hard at repressing any longing for. It would paint a bull's eye on his heart if he did. He couldn't have a home, a lover like Betty had been to him, real friends, a career. The pain if he lost those things again would be unbearable. The most he'd dared was being a member of the team, and these trips on his day out. Even so, he was always prepared to give his day up, if Hulk was needed._ _

__He'd screwed up and told Clint about Ross being Cetus and that the constellation he felt belonged to him had been named for a helpless prisoner. He'd shared one of his deepest fears. Well, he'd just said the name, Andromeda. Who, yes, was a princess. Bruce thought that was funny, too. Clint didn't get the prisoner reference. Bruce had been lucky._ _

__Then there was that terrible day when the Red Hulk attacked the helicarrier, cutting short Bruce's fishing trip. Clint flying him back to the mansion. Wanting to help, Clint blocking him. Arguing._ _

__Clint telling him he wasn't an Avenger, any more than Clint's bow was an Avenger._ _

__Shock. Hurt. Shame. Keeping all of his emotions from showing on his face. Fear, that Clint was right, that when he wasn't Hulk he had nothing to contribute to the team. Wondering if the rest of the Avengers felt that way about him. Feeling anger trying to take him over, not wanting to believe what Clint had said. Threatening Clint with Hulk, and feeling ashamed of himself as soon as he said it._ _

__Realizing that Clint was right, as he watched the Red Hulk torturing Clint, and he couldn't do anything to stop him. At last, being able to overcome the drug Falcon had shot him with and change to Hulk, saving Clint._ _

__Clint had told the truth. Bruce Banner was no Avenger._ _

__Transforming back from Hulk to realize that Cap had talked Hulk into surrendering to Ross._ _

__Abandoned. Isolated, gamma dampeners and drugs making sure Hulk couldn't bust them out. Protecting Hulk, whom he loved like a little brother, from the gibes and pain Bruce had to endure._ _

__Losing track of time, and thinking, when he was clear enough of the drugs, of what Clint had said. Bruce Banner was just a liability. It was Hulk who was needed by the team. Nobody would miss Bruce if he didn't show up. Well, Jan might, a little. She'd soon forget him, though._ _

__They all would._ _

__Finally released, Hulk leaving for some alone time in the woods. Sitting under a tree to wait until it was Hulk's turn again. The call notifying him that Hulk was needed to fight Galactus and Hulk going to help. Being so proud of him. Noticing that not one of the Avengers had asked Hulk about him at all. Not even Clint._ _

__Deciding that he was just done with coming out. Let Hulk take over; at least he had a place on the team, when he wanted it. Bruce wasn't needed anyway, and all of his research projects seemed like busy work, futile._ _

__He didn't even talk that much to Hulk anymore. Hulk was growing up; he'd be okay without Bruce to explain things to him._ _

__Bruce drifted inside of Hulk, and things felt so distant. He no longer remembered what it had felt like to make love to Betty, to feel the sun on his face, the taste of a cold beer, or the sound of Clint's voice._ _

__Hulk accepted his refusal to come out on his day off, and Bruce kept on refusing._ _

__Then he and Hulk had their showdown. God, it had been awful knowing the Avengers were watching him lose it, feeling weaker and weaker and just wishing everything was over. They would be better off without him around; didn't they see that? Clint grabbing him, his eyes intent on Bruce's._ _

__Then darkness. Crawling away from Hulk, hiding. He knew he was weak, suspected he was dying. Good. Let his existence end. Hulk would never have to give up his body ever again._ _

__Then the hallucinations had started. Jan and Clint. They weren't real, of course, but having them here to keep him company, especially Clint, who kept kissing him, was a nice way to finally die._ _

__The rush of Bruce's thoughts ended there._ _

__Clint exploded when he felt that last thought. No way in hell was he letting Bruce do this to himself._ _

__He pulled Bruce around so he could look at him and took his chin in his hand, feeling the stubble against his fingers._ _

__He shook his head and frowned at him. Then he bent down and kissed him on the mouth. With tongue._ _

__Bruce's eyes went wide. He looked dazed, baffled. So Clint kissed him again before getting them both up on their feet, Bruce acting like a weeble-wobble toy Clint had played with a long time ago._ _

__Bruce had to talk with Hulk. He trusted that Hulk would set Bruce straight, would make him see that he needed Bruce. Bruce always put other people first; he'd struggle to stay alive if he thought Hulk really did need him. Hulk might die, too, if Bruce died, but Clint didn't know if Hulk knew that. Bruce didn't._ _

__Clint dragged Bruce with him down the tunnel back to the main cave, one arm around Bruce's waist, Jan taking the lead, her stingers lighting the way for him, until Bruce stopped moving his feet at all. His breathing was slowing down, and his eyes were hazy._ _

__Clint picked him up and ran with him. He cursed the way the cave ceiling lowered until he had to drop to his knees. Jan, pixie size, flew back and waved him out of the way. She bunched her hands in what was left of Bruce's waistband and lifted him enough so that his head cleared the floor. Clint could see the strain on her face, before she turned and flew slowly down the tunnel, Bruce's body bowed under her._ _

__Clint scrambled after them, emerging in time to see Hulk cradling Bruce to him, holding him like Bruce was a sleepy child. Clint stumbled close to them, looking up at Hulk._ _

__Hulk looked worried. He rumbled, “Banner, you're wrong. I'll be mad if you do this. Wake back up. You're making Cupid cry.”_ _

__Clint raised a hand to his cheek and felt the wetness. Jan flew over and changed to human size, lacing her fingers with his._ _

__Clint stared at Hulk and Bruce, realizing that it was all out of his hands. He'd done his best to make Bruce feel he was wanted, and the idiot kept thinking he was only a hallucination._ _

__There wasn't much that scared Clint. Bruce, like this, terrified him._ _

__Jan squeezed his hand hard. He hadn't been the only one crying. Her eyes were red and swollen._ _

__There were footsteps behind him, and he turned to see Doctor Strange move quickly to Hulk and Bruce. He laid a hand on Bruce's heart and his other hand on Hulk's chest._ _

__He was quiet for a moment, then said with authority, _“In the name of the Eternal Vishanti – let the trance be done!_ ”_ _

__Bruce arched his back. His arm,dangling limp and lifeless, moved. Hulk gripped him tighter, and Doctor Strange looked at Clint and Jan and said, “You have both done well. Bruce Banner's and the Hulk's fate is in their hands now, for the crisis is upon them. Return now.” He shouted then, tones ringing in the cave, _“May the Omnipotent Oshtur restore thee to the land of the living!_ ”_ _

__There was another flash of light and then he and Jan were back in the cell-turned-hospital room, holding Bruce's hands. Doctor Strange was there, standing next to Bruce with paddles in his hand, a crash cart next to him._ _

__“Hawkeye, Wasp, let go of his hands and step back. His heart's beating too fast.” He glanced at the EKG monitor. “He's beginning to show signs of ventricular fibrillation and might go into cardiac arrest.” He looked up at the security camera. “I could use some help in here!” The EKG monitor started blaring out an alarm, the up and down waves collapsing into a weak irregular pattern. “Right now, people. He's in VF.”_ _

__Doctor Strange flipped switches on the crash cart and Hawkeye heard the whine of the charge building up. He gently rubbed the paddles together, and held them over Bruce's bared chest._ _

__Two nurses rushed in and as he and Jan watched, Doctor Strange shocked Bruce, the nurses assisting. Bruce didn't respond. The procedure was repeated, and a nurse injected a drug into the IV. The other nurse began chest compressions, her arms straight as she bent over Bruce and pressed her hands hard against Bruce's sternum in a rocking motion. Watching the monitor, Doctor Strange ordered the nurse to stop and step back. He shocked Bruce again. Clint held his breath, frozen. Then the EKG changed sounds and started recording Bruce's heartbeat again, the pattern something that Clint recognized from hospital stays._ _

__The flurry of activity continued for some time, but at last Doctor Strange motioned for them to come closer._ _

__“For now, I think Bruce has decided to live. He's not out of danger, though, and he's not going to be able to shake off this coma right away.” Strange leaned over Bruce and called his name. Bruce didn't react. Then Strange squeezed Bruce's neck muscle and Bruce opened his eyes and slowly bent his arm before he went limp again. He didn't focus on anything, and a moment later, he closed his eyes._ _

__“He's gone up to a six in the Glasgow Coma Scale.” Strange said._ _

__Clint said, “So he is improving.”_ _

__“For the moment. Hopefully, he'll continue. I think you both managed to reach him enough that he decided to fight off death. And you reunited him with Hulk, which was needed in order for him to start to heal.”_ _

__Jan said, “That was so...”_ _

__Doctor Strange smiled. “Yes, it was. Do you both remember what you learned from Bruce and Hulk?”_ _

__Clint and Jan both nodded._ _

__“I think Hulk will retain what he learned from you, but Bruce... mmm, my gut feeling is that it will be a lot more hazy for him. He may or may not know the feelings you shared with him, or remember what he learned about you both. ”_ _

__He ushered them away from Bruce then, towards the wall._ _

__Strange's expression turned pensive.“It's going to be important that Bruce have support when he leaves here.”_ _

__Clint said, “He will. We'll meet with the team, make things right for him.”_ _

__Jan said, voice cracking a little, “He just gave up.”_ _

__Doctor Strange nodded. “He's on the verge of clinical depression, and frankly, I'm not sure how well he might tolerate an antidepressant. I'd rather see him in therapy. I think Doctor Samson would treat him, if Bruce and Hulk felt comfortable with him. I know there's some history between them.”_ _

__Clint said, “Yeah, they kinda go way back. I saw Doc Sampson with him at the Cube.”_ _

__“Also,” Doctor Strange continued, “he should continue with healthy living practices such as yoga, exercise, meditation and his nutrition is in serious need of an overhaul. He's low on vitamin B and D, and he'll be getting shots before he leaves here.”_ _

__“Okay.” Jan said. “I've always wanted to learn yoga. I'll get Bruce to teach me, because he does know it. He told me that once.”_ _

__Doctor Strange glanced back over at Bruce. “This arrangement between Hulk and Bruce— it's not healthy for Bruce at all. It encouraged him to isolate himself, increased his depression. Ideally, Bruce needs to be in his original body much more than just one day a month.”_ _

__Clint asked, “What about Hulk? If he's not allowed out unless we need him to fight, how will that affect him?”_ _

__“I suspect he'll be extra cranky, but physically, since his was the secondary manifestation, I don't believe he'll be harmed like Bruce has been harmed. I'm not suggesting that they just reverse their arrangement, but something more equal would benefit Bruce and not harm Hulk.”_ _

__“That was a crazy deal they made, but ya know, we didn't think it was anybody's business but theirs,” Clint said, shaking his head._ _

__“Bruce might resist a new arrangement. He's very invested in Hulk being seen as a hero, not a monster,” Doctor Strange said._ _

__“It's an uphill battle to get people to realize that,” Clint said, grimacing._ _

__“Something else to consider: Bruce's self-esteem is practically non-existent. He needs to feel like he's contributing to the Avengers, even if you and the other Avengers don't feel he's a teammate.” Doctor Strange looked straight at Clint._ _

__“What? Of course Bruce is an Avenger.” Jan turned to Clint, puzzled, then her big blue eyes turned suspicious._ _

__“Jan? I'll explain later, okay?” Clint felt guilty that his remarks had hit Bruce so hard, but in all honesty, he couldn't take it back. Maybe Bruce could help them out sometimes with science stuff, but he wasn't a fighter. He really wasn't an Avenger. Clint didn't think they should lie to him about that. It was bound to only cause more problems._ _

__Wasp put her hands on her hips and she had the look on her face that meant somebody was about to get blasted with her stingers. “Clinton Francis Barton! Did you tell Bruce he wasn't an Avenger? That was mean. Don't forget I saw you kissing him. You had better be nicer to him from now on.”_ _

__“Yes, ma’am.”_ _

__Her expression softened. “Do you really like him?”_ _

__He nodded, and she blinked at him, a confused look on her face. “You've got a funny way of showing it. You're always needling him.”_ _

__Clint shrugged.“Because I want to see the real him.”_ _

__Jan looked bewildered. “The real him?”_ _

__“Yeah,” Clint looked at her, wanting to make her understand. “He's slipped up enough times that I know that the real Bruce Banner is in there.”_ _

__“I'm not sure I understand.” Jan said, still bewildered._ _

__Clint took her hand. “I'm not saying that his cool as a cucumber act is fake, but he's made himself be that way. Like he's afraid he'll say or do the wrong thing--”_ _

__“You mean he's guarded,” she said. “I've noticed that, too.”_ _

__Doctor Strange listened, but didn't offer an opinion._ _

__Clint felt his chest tighten, his eyes felt hot and wet. “Jeez, I can't believe I'm saying this, I'm gonna sound like I'm on some stupid bare-your-feelings TV show, but he holds back on his emotions. He won't let himself get excited about something, or annoyed or angry, although I have gotten him a little pissed off at me a few times. And then he just retreats even further. He lets Hulk show feelings for both of them and that's just not right. He's so sad, did you feel that, too? In that cave?”_ _

__Jan nodded._ _

__Clint sighed. “I just want him to relax and be himself. Jan, I want to hear him laugh.” He let go of her hand._ _

__She patted his arm. “I want that, too, Clint. And from now on, the Avengers are going to be paying a lot more attention to Bruce.”_ _

__“Well, I'm planning on giving him a lot of very personal attention.”_ _

__There was a low groan from Bruce and Doctor Strange moved back to Bruce's side, Jan and Clint following him._ _

__Clint looked at Bruce, saw him shifting a little, his eyes fluttering open for a moment before closing again._ _

__He wouldn't lie to Bruce. But from now on, he'd help him find ways that he could contribute to the team, just like Doctor Strange had suggested._ _


	4. Chapter 4

  


_Bruce_

 

Drifting upwards, hanging suspended somewhere between awareness and oblivion.

Oblivion won, and the sounds and smells that had lured him towards them faded and died.

Sounds, burbling, rising in cadence and falling again, the wordless voices a lullaby sending him to sleep. 

Dreams. Fleeting touches. Brief pain, dazzling light, darkness. A voice from far away saying his name. He reached for that voice, but fell back into nothingness.

* * *

“Bruce. Open up your damned eyes.” 

He didn't want to follow that command. He didn't want to face what his subconscious had recognized from the faint, deep thrumming sound that surrounded him. 

He was on the helicarrier. There was no good reason for that to happen, ever. He didn't know what had landed him here in this floating flying prison. His memories weren't to be trusted, not at all. If he thought he remembered Clint kissing him, almost feeling again the insistent touch of demanding lips on his own, then nothing he seemed to remember could possibly be true.

Murmuring, “You don't get to tell me what to do, Clint,” he gave a sigh and felt himself start to fall back to sleep. It was better to retreat into unconsciousness than open his eyes to the truth that once again he was S.H.I.E.L.D.'s captive.

Clint wasn't even here. Bruce was just hallucinating again. He frowned, wondering why that thought had crossed his mind. Well, it didn't matter. Nothing did, really. 

He drifted, sleep beckoning, when he felt an ice-cold cloth on his face.

Startled, his eyes opened involuntarily. He blinked several times and stared up at the hallucination standing there. Okay, that wash cloth his hallucination was holding had felt really cold, so evidently he was having tactile hallucinations now. Swell. The hallucination tapped Bruce on his nose, and Bruce realized his eyelids had closed to half-mast.

What he saw when he gazed back up at his hallucination was blond hair sticking up in every direction. Blue, blue eyes. Like a winter's day clear blue, chilling him a little, because Clint looked angry.

Okay. So maybe this Clint wasn't a hallucination. Clint didn't usually look angry at him. His expressions tended toward cranky or amused and teasing. Clint loved to tease people. He seemed to get an extra kick out of pestering Bruce. Even if he was worried about something, Clint wouldn't really show it. He'd just get snarkier, throwing insults like crazy at the villains. 

But this Clint, hallucination or the real deal, was about as far from looking amused as Bruce was from ever being allowed to go back to Culver University and rejoin the faculty.

“I don't get to tell you what to do? That's what you just said? Oh, you've lost the right to make your own decisions for a while, Doctor Banner. Because you make terrible ones, you know that? Deciding to die, thinking that would be just dandy? Not okay. Not okay at all. So expect me to be sticking to you like glue, and when it's not me, it'll be Jan, or Steve, or Thor, or Tony. T'Challa's in Wakanda, and Vision's doing his own thing for now, or they'd be on the roster, too.”

So. This Clint was definitely a hallucination. The Avengers didn't care enough about Bruce Banner to spend that much time with him. Proof that he'd dreamed this Clint up. He had to stop this, starting right now.

“I'm not going to talk to you. It'll only encourage my delusional thinking. So, goodbye, Clint Hallucination. Thanks for the kisses, but I should try to deal with reality.”

Clint H. crossed his arms over his chest. “And what reality is that, Bruce? I'm not a hallucination.”

Bruce decided to list what he was fairly sure was real. He'd be talking to himself, though, and not to the hallucination that looked so tired all of a sudden.

“My reality. I'm on the helicarrier. I don't know why. The last thing I remember is being in the mansion and Hulk making me stay out. I was looking at Clint.”

He snuck a look at his hallucination, and looked away fast when Clint H. nodded at him.

Bruce raised his head up a little and looked around. “This is a cell, although S.H.I.E.L.D.'s brought in medical equipment. They must be experimenting on me again. My head hurts. I'm thirsty. I see the gamma dampeners, so Hulk can't come out and rescue us. Being a prisoner is my reality.”

He pulled against the medical restraints around his wrists, flexed against his ankle bindings. “I'm in restraints, and I'm hallucinating. My hallucinations are visual, tactile, and aural. I do know they aren't real.”

Clint H. grabbed a cup with a straw in it and held it to Bruce's mouth. Bruce didn't drink. It was bad to give into the hallucinations.

“Drink it, Bruce; it's just water. I swear I'm real. I'm really here, and you aren't hallucinating. And I'll be taking you home as soon as you're cleared by Doctor Strange. Oh, and he's sending Doc Samson to see you.”

Bruce shook his head and kept his lips tightly closed. Clint H. heaved a great sigh. A wave of anger hit Bruce, because damn it, Clint H. shouldn't be trying to guilt Bruce into drinking. 

Bruce snapped at him, “Wish fulfillment, that's what you are. You're not real! Go away! Stop making me think about things I can't have.”

He felt tears well up and spill over, beginning their slow journey downward and he couldn't even wipe his face clear of them, not with his hands tied. “Go away,” he whispered. 

Clint H. put down the water and grabbed his wrist. “Fuck it. I'm letting you out of these restraints. I knew it was a bad idea, but until the doc talked to you about killing yourself, S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted them left on so you wouldn't try anything stupid. Bruce, honey, I'm real. You're not out of your head about this. You're at the helicarrier because you were really sick. You almost died, because you're a moron. And me and rest of the team are all morons, too. You're not a prisoner.” 

He quickly freed both of Bruce's wrists and Bruce sat up in bed and scrubbed at his face. 

Bruce said quietly, “Clint has never called me Bruce, and he has never, ever, called me honey.”

Clint H. said, “Maybe I just started.”

Bruce studiously stared at the glass of water.

“I like you, Clint H. But you're a figment of my brain, maybe from being drugged.”

“You're not drugged!”

“Or I've finally gotten so low that I'm making up people to care about me.”

Clint H. threw his hands up in the air. “You know you drive me crazy, right? You do have people who care about you.”

“Or maybe I've been sick. But why would S.H.I.E.L.D. agree to give me medical care? I'm betting they'd be just as happy if I did die.”

“Lissen up, Banner. You are not allowed to die.” Clint H. had grabbed his shoulders. These tactile hallucinations were really strong. 

“I'm a prisoner, and I'm out of my head.” 

He reached for the water glass and drained it, set it back down, touched his hand where an IV was still dripping liquid into his body. “I'm tired. Please let me go back to sleep, Clint H.”

“You said I was wish fulfillment. What are you wishing for?” Clint H. sat down on the edge of the bed and he picked up Bruce's hand.

Bruce sighed. “I shouldn't tell you.”

“You can tell me. C'mon, tell me?”

“You're not real.”

“Says you, pal. But let's go with your logic. If I'm not real, then it doesn't matter if you tell me what you've been wishing for, does it?”

Bruce felt confused. He rubbed his forehead with his free hand.

“I, I guess not.” He was circling the drain, he knew it. 

“Okay, just nod your head if I get it right. Do you want to go camping with me?” asked Clint H.

Bruce nodded.

“Fishing?” 

Bruce nodded, then added, “And you aren't a pain in the ass about it. No grumbling. Bring a book or video games along.”

Clint H. laughed. “What about afterwards? Want to come share my sleeping bag?”

“See, that proves you aren't real. Because Clint Barton doesn't want that with me.”

“Yes, I do.”

Bruce felt sadness filling him up, and he just wanted to not feel anything, because sadness? It hurt. “I know better. And I know better than to let myself want something. I can't want Clint to like me. Or want him to go to bed with me. So will you leave me alone now?”

“I'm staying right here.”

He looked Clint H. in the eyes and said haltingly, “Please?”

Clint H. sighed. “Why don't you ask Hulk about all of this, maybe you'd believe him that when I do this, I'm really doing it.” He kissed him on the forehead, and then briefly brushed his lips across Bruce's own dry ones.

Bruce looked past Clint H. and stared at the gray walls of his prison cell. “You know that if I lower the wall Hulk will feel what I feel. When they start hurting me, I don't want him to be hurt, too.” 

Clint H. ran a hand through short blond hair, ruffling it even further. “Okay. I give. Go back to sleep, and maybe this will make more sense to you when you wake back up.”

Bruce tried to get comfortable but the restraints on his legs kept him from being able to turn on his side. Clint H. undid them, then pulled the white cotton blanket up to Bruce's shoulders. He started to rub Bruce's back, and Bruce gave in. He didn't want Clint H. to stop, and he kept imagining that he was touching him because he cared about Bruce. Nobody had soothed him like that since he'd been with Betty. 

Just like when he was very little, when his mother used to do it, and hum old Beatles songs, he fell asleep to someone's hand making comforting circles on his back.

* * *

Bruce felt better the next time he woke up. Surprised, he saw that the medical staff had taken off his restraints while he was asleep. He disconnected all the monitors and catheter and pulled out the IV from the back of his hand. He'd probably pay for doing that, but he felt rebellious. There was a meal on the hospital table, and he ate the cold soup and crackers, juice and applesauce.

So much for his pardon. He was sure that he hadn't done anything to warrant being incarcerated again, but that had never stopped S.H.I.E.L.D. or Ross from grabbing him in the past. 

He was being monitored; he could see the cameras in the room. He was used to them, so he ignored the fact that someone was watching his every move. Whenever he'd been imprisoned, he hardly ever had interactions with people, except for the heartless bastards who experimented on him. When he'd been in the mountain prison he'd mostly been left in solitary confinement, except for when the General had wanted to have some fun with him. After the first time, when Bruce had fought back, even biting one guard, he'd been gassed into unconsciousness whenever Ross wanted him experimented on for whatever he was doing. Afterwards, Bruce would wake up to find himself strapped to a lab table. 

At least he'd kept Hulk from being tortured.

Bruce slowly got out of his hospital bed and found the bathroom. After relieving himself he decided to use the shower and get clean. There were cameras in here, too, but he'd long ago given up being modest. If he was very lucky, he'd still have shredded and filthy pants on after he transformed from the Hulk back to Banner, but it hadn't been uncommon for him to wake up naked. Tony had done Hulk and him a favor and had pants made that stretched and shrunk as needed. He thought maybe Tony had done some kind of science swap with Reed Richards for the fabric.

Bruce stripped off the scrubs he was wearing and turned on the hot water, then stepped in, a little grateful that there was soap and shampoo provided for him. He debated shaving, and then decided it was too much trouble.

He wasn't hallucinating, at least. Well, he didn't think he was. He remembered that he'd decided to let Hulk stay out and keep their body. It certainly made more sense. Hulk was needed. He wasn't. But here he was, anyway, and he felt strange about that. And it was just plain sad that he had hallucinated seeing Clint and Jan. Especially Clint. He hoped Clint would never find out that Bruce had dreamed him up, that he'd imagined Clint kissing him. 

He resolved that if Hulk wouldn't let him miss his day out anymore, then he'd just stay quietly in the mansion or maybe the garden, keep out of everybody's way. 

He was good at hiding. 

He wouldn't ask Clint or anybody else to take him to the woods anymore or his cabin.

If he couldn't help the Avengers, at least he could stop taking up their time. 

* * *

After dressing in clean scrubs that had been left for him on a shelf, he grabbed the blanket, wrapped himself up in it, and sat down against a wall, where he could watch the door. 

He must have dozed off because when he heard his name called, it woke him up. He looked up at a man with green hair and shoulders to rival Thor's, who was crouched down in front of him. Leonard.

Bruce struggled to his feet, Leonard holding onto his arm to help steady him.

“Bruce, come and sit on the bed. That floor is cold.” Leonard kept his hand out ready to assist him, and Bruce stumbled back to the bed and eased himself down on it.

He hadn't seen Leonard for a while. Hulk had told him that Leonard had been brainwashed into helping Red Skull attack the Avengers. 

“I heard about Red Skull. How are you doing, Leonard?” He re-wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, and gave Leonard an assessing look. 

Leonard smiled at him. “I'm fine now. It was very disturbing to come back to myself to find that I'd been doing things to hurt other people, but I've had a chance to come to terms with it. Therapy for the therapist. It helped, and I've come to offer the same thing to you.”

Bruce said hesitantly, “Therapy?”

Leonard said, “Bruce, has Doctor Strange talked to you yet?

“I don't know him.”

“He treated you here, you--”

“What was wrong with me?”

“Bruce, I don't know all the medical details, but you were in a coma.”

“A coma?”

“Yes. Doctor Strange contacted me and explained that he's been treating you for the coma you were in, and he was recommending psychiatric care as a followup.”

“Because I was in a coma.” He glanced up at the cameras. “Did they get too rough with me, give me a head injury? Or did they put something in my brain again?” He felt the back of his head, where they'd put the last implant. He couldn't feel anything wrong.

Leonard shook his head. “Nobody's hurt you. Do you know where you are?”

“The helicarrier. Um... I don't remember S.H.I.E.L.D. arresting me again.”

“You aren't under arrest, Bruce. But since you were sent to a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility for medical care, they aren't taking any chances that Hulk would take exception to being here and destroy the helicarrier. That's why you're in a secure gamma dampener cell.”

“How long was I in a coma?”

“Four or five days.”

“Why?”

Giving him a contemplative look, Leonard said gently, “You gave up, Bruce. You wanted the Hulk to take over permanently. Do you remember that?

Bruce closed his eyes and sorted through what he remembered. Or what he thought he remembered. 

“I think so.”

“You think so?

“It's all a mishmash of dreams.”

“Anything else seem confusing to you?”

Bruce looked at Leonard, debating, then decided that being in a coma gave a guy a certain amount of leeway. “Hallucinations, too. But I haven't had any today.”

Leonard said, “I was coming to the helicarrier on S.H.I.E.L.D. business and thought I'd check on you, say hello, and discuss if you want therapy and if you would feel comfortable with me as your psychiatrist. I did treat you when you were in the Cube as a prisoner, after all. It would be understandable if you preferred someone else for therapy.”

“Um, I don't know. I'd like to know more about why I was in a coma.” 

“Doctor Strange said that the struggle between you and Hulk sent you into it. Do you remember the struggle?”

“Yes. At the mansion.”

“Doctor Strange tried some unusual techniques and pulled you out of it. I've worked with him before and he's unorthodox, but what he does is legitimate, if not well understood. He had another emergency come up, but he said he would be checking back on you soon.” 

“Since I'm not a prisoner, can I leave?”

“It's not up to me, but let me check your vitals. You look pale.” Leonard located a stethoscope and blood pressure cuff and a thermometer. He stuck the thermometer in Bruce's mouth, and took his pulse and blood pressure. 

Leonard's fingers on his pulse point just brought home to Bruce how long it had been since he'd had any positive human touch. Hallucinations didn't count. But, that was the way it was, and he had accepted that he'd be alone a long time ago. 

Leonard unwrapped the cuff, took the thermometer out of Bruce's mouth and glanced at it. “Well, your blood pressure is a little low, and your pulse seemed a little jumpy, but you're not running a fever. Bruce, people are concerned about you.”

Bruce doubted that. Still, the Avengers must have called an ambulance after he collapsed. He remembered feeling weaker and weaker after each time he'd tried to turn back into Hulk.

Leonard waited till it was clear Bruce didn't have a comment, then he added, “I'm concerned about you. Why did you refuse to return at all to this body?” he waved his hand at Bruce. 

Bruce just shrugged his shoulders. “Hulk is needed; I'm not.”

“Why aren't you needed?”

“Hulk is the Avenger.”

“And you're not?”

“No.”

“Okay. Are you having any thoughts about hurting yourself?”

Bruce hesitated, “No.”

Leonard said gently, “No, but...?”

“I think I was ready to die. It just happened that way. But those dreams I had, they made me feel differently. I can promise you this, Leonard. I'm not feeling like killing or hurting myself now.”

“From what Doctor Strange said, you're lucky to be alive. You were headed for a probably fatal heart attack, and he had to shock you to get your heart to work correctly again.”

Bruce put his hand on his chest. “Really? Any damage?” He wasn't much concerned. Whenever he did get out of here, changing to Hulk would take care of any lingering problems.

“He said that you're fine. Bruce, would you answer some questions for me, honestly answer them?”

“Umm. Okay.” Bruce was a lousy liar, anyway. Might as well tell him what truths he could afford to give away.

Leonard nodded, “But first I want to make it clear that you have a choice here. If you decide not to talk to me, it won't impact you being able to leave. You've already stated that you don't feel like hurting yourself, and you've always been very honest in the past with me.”

Bruce shrugged again. Leonard meant well, and Bruce considered him to be as much of a friend as anybody he'd met since going on the run. At least when Bruce had been a captive and Leonard had done tests on him, he'd been careful not to hurt him. 

“Go ahead.”

It was a depression screening, Bruce realized after the first question. Still he answered honestly, as Leonard had requested. Isolating himself, depressed mood, loss of joy in things he formerly enjoyed doing, feeling low energy, having had thoughts of wishing he could stay asleep and not wake up, he admitted to doing and feeling all of it. 

“Bruce, who is in your life right now that you can talk to about things that are bothering you? Somebody you could call at three in the morning and they'd come to help you with whatever trouble you're in?”

“Ah, Jan, I guess. She's got a good heart for everybody. But I wouldn't bother her. Cap would come, because he's Cap. They both did come to help free me the last time I was in custody with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Bruce started to cross his arms around himself, the nightmarish, vague memories he had of that time waiting to engulf him, but with an effort he laid his hands in his lap and banished those thoughts. Leonard didn't need to see him having difficulty talking about this stuff. He'd said he'd okay Bruce's release and Bruce didn't want him to change his mind.

He made himself make good eye contact. Shrinks liked that, he'd found. He said, “Really any of the Avengers would help me if I was in serious trouble. They got me a pardon from the president, you know. They came looking for Hulk when he went off into the Arctic, to make sure he was okay. They're all good people.”

“So you would call any of the Avengers to help you out of a jam?” 

Bruce looked down at his hands. He wished that he could skip seeing the team for a while. If enough time went by maybe they'd forget about him again and he wouldn't have to see the looks they'd give him. 

Leonard had been gazing at him with kindness. This was his job. He was kind to all of his patients. Bruce looked at him again.

“You said to be honest so... no. I wouldn't bother them about me. I was on my own for a long time before Hulk joined the team, and I can handle my own problems.”

Leonard lifted an eyebrow.

Bruce shrugged. “Well, I wouldn't turn down a jail break from them, if Ross ever gets out of custody and gets his hands on me again. I don't think that pardon means anything to him, he'll just try to manufacture evidence against me, I suspect.”

Leonard blew out a long stream of breath and then smiled wryly at him. “Bruce, I'm going to say this in the most unprofessional way possible. Your support system sucks. Part of that is you not wanting to accept help, and a great deal of it is from your teammates not building stronger friendships with you.”

“They're not my teammates. They're Hulk's.”

“And that statement pinpoints one of the main problems. You don't feel like you belong with the Avengers, do you?”

“No, not anymore. I used to think I was one of them, but I had my eyes opened about that. Leonard, it's okay. I've accepted that I'm not on the team. They'll tell me if I can help with something scientific, and I'm happy to do that. Thanks for talking with me, and I appreciate the offer to do therapy with you. Let me think about it for a while, okay?”

“Alright. And Bruce? If you need to talk to somebody at three in the morning, you can call me. Either as your therapist, or if we don't go that route, then as your friend. Okay?”

Bruce nodded, and Leonard patted him on the shoulder and addressed the security camera. 

I'm ready to leave.” He walked to the door and Bruce watched as it opened and Leonard stepped out. He glimpsed a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent with a tranquilizer gun before the door shut and locked again. 

He hoped Doctor Strange would come soon and release him. He didn't think S.H.I.E.L.D. would let him go against medical advice.

* * *

Cocooned in the blanket, Bruce went back to his spot against the wall so he could keep the door in his line of sight. He tried to do a little meditation but gave it quickly up. He was too much on edge to relax enough to reach Delta brainwaves. 

He considered Leonard's offer to be his therapist. By any measure, he had enough baggage from his childhood to keep him in therapy for a good long time. But really, he'd dealt with all that. He just hadn't realized that depression had crept up on him. Now that he was aware of that problem, he'd try to not let himself sink further into that hole. He'd contact Leonard later and tell him that for now he was holding off on therapy.

Since Bruce was giving up his cabin and trips to lakes and woods, he considered other quiet, solitary things he could do on his day off. He didn't think he'd be allowed to leave by himself to go out into the city, not even to Central Park, which was easily in walking distance from the mansion. 

He bet that there was a library in the mansion, although he'd never looked for it. He could curl up with real books and lose himself for hours. Tony would give Hulk a Starkpad if Hulk asked for one, and he could borrow it for his day out. He could read online books and scientific journals. Watch movies or TV shows on it, too. He'd missed a lot of movies during his running days. He could catch up.

He could do yoga, meditate. Take a nap. Hulk liked to swim in the pool. Maybe if nobody else was using it he could do some laps, float around. 

He could think about his research. Maybe sketch out experiments and work equations. He didn't want to bother Tony about using his lab space, unless there was a problem he could help with again, so he'd keep things theoretical. Maybe he could send his work to some old colleagues who might be interested in his ideas. 

He needed to make some money now that he had to be out again. He wouldn't feel right anymore about using the funds Tony had set up for each of the Avengers, a stipend to let them buy things they needed. Hulk could use it still since he was a member of the team. Bruce would pay Tony back for past rent and groceries. He'd set up something quiet with JARVIS. Tony, he knew, wouldn't care and wouldn't accept it if he knew about it, but Bruce didn't want to be a moocher. He could do tutoring on-line and sign up at some of those sites where you got paid to write articles explaining concepts to those without a science background. Things like how electrical circuits or transformers worked or how to build a Geiger counter or troubleshoot a mass spectrometer.

He sighed. That kind of work wouldn't be any sort of a challenge. He had never much cared about TV or movies. He wasn't that good of a swimmer, either, and he always got cold fast when he was in the water. Just lying around in the sun bored him, although he knew from Hulk's stories that Jan and Clint loved imitating lizards and basking in the heat. 

Well. More time to think about research then. 

Drawing his knees up to his chin, he clasped his hands around his legs. Clint might be surprised to know that once upon a time, Bruce had been fairly impatient when he was waiting for something to happen. He'd fidget, skitter around, jump up from a work station to grab more coffee. Now he only drank decaf. Funny how waiting for hours, hiding in small spaces, barely breathing until some huge tank had at last rolled away had finally taught him patience.

He waited until drowsiness overtook him, his eyes closing despite trying to stay awake. The bed was too far away, so he curled up on the floor and let sleep take him down.

 

* * *

Bruce came awake to the sound of voices in the room. He kept his eyes shut, hoping to learn more about who was in the room with him before getting to his feet.

“Assistant Director, he's fine. Doctor Samson took his vitals. He's been sitting there on the floor and he just got sleepy.”

“Do you take me for an idiot? He almost died four days ago, and Doctor Strange told us that he wouldn't be fully recovered from the coma for days. You should have got him a chair if he wanted to sit by the wall. I am not going to have the Avengers on my tail because you let him stay on the floor and he had a relapse. Get him on the bed, and check him over before Barton wakes up and sees his boy like this.”

Bruce opened his eyes and sat up slowly before he could be manhandled. “Um, I heard that. I'm okay.” Barton's boy? 

The two men who were practically looming over him stopped and looked back at the fit-looking black-haired woman who was glaring at them. 

“Do I need to repeat myself? Pick him up and get him back on the bed.”

Before Bruce could get to his feet, he was hauled up and carried between the two men to the bed and placed on it, legs dangling over the side. 

The two men hustled to get his vitals. From the looks on their faces, it was with some relief that they told the woman that his readings were within normal limits. She motioned for them to leave the room and crossed her arms over her chest, looking him over.

Bruce watched her warily. “Are you Assistant Director Maria Hill?” 

She nodded, and he swallowed before saying, “Um, thank you for letting me have medical treatment. I'd like to leave now, please.”

She shook her head. “You're not going anywhere— ” 

Bruce fisted his hands. It was what he expected from S.H.I.E.L.D., after all.

She looked pointedly at his hands and he let them flatten out against his thighs.

“You're not going anywhere until Doctor Strange releases you. He'll be here in an hour or two. And, I'm adding my own condition. Lose the beard.”

Bruce wondered if he'd heard her correctly. “Um, excuse me?”

“Shave it off, Doctor Banner.”

“Why?”

She just stared hard at him until he raised his hands. “I really don't think it's any of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s business, but... okay.”

Maybe they wanted to take his picture for future identification purposes. That must be it.

“Why did you return to the States, Doctor Banner? You'd dropped off everybody's radar when you disappeared in South America.”

“I found out S.H.I.E.L.D. was experimenting on people who'd been exposed to gamma radiation. I thought maybe there was something I could do to help those poor souls.”

“Why you?” Hill asked.

“Why not me? I know something about gamma radiation.”

“That's like saying Michelangelo knew something about painting.”

“Um...” He didn't know how to respond to that. 

Hill pointed at him. “I want you registered with S.H.I.E.L.D., Doctor Banner. We know your identity, of course, but I want to make it official that you're under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s supervision. I want all of the Avengers and every other superhero out there, whether they're like Tony Stark and have announced their identity, or those who are keeping it a secret, like Spiderman, to stop being vigilantes and be regulated.”

“You'd have to ask Hulk, not me. I'm not the superhero.”

“Don't get cute with me. You're one person.”

He shook his head. “Not really. At the very least, we'd want to discuss it with each other.”

She rolled her eyes. “So take thirty seconds and ask your alter ego about it.”

“Not here. If I lower the wall between us, Hulk will experience what I'm experiencing. Once the wall is down it's not very easy to put it back up. And while your people haven't hurt me so far, I won't risk Hulk being tortured along with me, if things go the way they usually do when I'm in a S.H.I.E.L.D. cell.”

“You're exaggerating. I don't appreciate it.”

“The other times were all filmed; I could see the cameras. If you've seen it and think that it wasn't torture, then we have very different meanings for that term.”

He shivered and wrapped the blanket more tightly around himself, feeling cold all of a sudden, remembering scalpels and blood, pieces of his flesh removed to chart how fast his body would mend. Torture sessions disguised as interrogations. Keeping him awake to disorient him, to see if Hulk would speak through his lips. 

He wasn't sure how long he was lost to his memories, but the door opening up caught his attention. Jan came in, carrying a tray, a bag over one shoulder. 

He glanced at Maria Hill to see if she noticed Jan or not. He was half afraid she was a hallucination, too, like Clint H. had been, but Jan smiled at Maria, who said, “Wasp,” in a friendly tone of voice. Jan had a knack of charming most people. Even some of the villains she had put in prison had thought she was cute.

Jan placed the tray on the bed table and dropped the bag on the bed next to him.

Then she threw her arms around him and hugged him hard. Holding him by his shoulders, she looked him in the eyes. “Bruce, you're looking so much better now. You really scared us, you know that? Don't you dare ever do anything like that again, Bruce Banner!” 

“I'm sorry. I didn't intend to worry anybody.” He said it awkwardly, not sure what to do in response to such overt concern about him. 

“Are you feeling better?”

“I'm okay.”

“It took you a while to come out of the coma. Do you remember waking up and looking at us and then falling asleep again?”

“Noooo...”

“Doctor Strange said you probably wouldn't remember much, and what you did remember would be hazy. He also said you had to start taking better care of yourself. I was watching you on the security monitors and you looked cold, so I found you a sweatshirt. And I brought you some supper.”

Hill interrupted them. “Doctor Banner, Director Fury or I are the only ones authorized to release you, and one of us will be back to do that if Doctor Strange signs your discharge papers. Wasp, good to see you again. I take it that Barton is still sleeping off the sedative?”

“Clint was up for most of the time Bruce was sick, so he's got a lot of sleep to catch up on. Maria, thank you for coming down. I didn't want Bruce to sleep on the floor, but the guys watching him wouldn't do anything.”

Hill walked to the door, waved at the security camera. Bruce heard the sound of the lock disengaging, but before she opened it she pointed at him. 

“I'll watch those films, Doctor. And you have that discussion with the Hulk.”

* * *

 

Janet fussed over him for a while. He did as she asked, ate the ham sandwich and coleslaw she'd brought him, swapped the blanket he was wrapped up in for the black sweatshirt with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s logo emblazoned on the back. 

She chattered about Doctor Strange, the neurologist and, apparently, some sort of mystic. Cap had tracked down Spiderman in a back alley, and the webslinger had relayed a message to Doctor Strange asking him if he could see Bruce. Tony had talked Fury into letting Doctor Strange come to the helicarrier to treat Bruce after S.H.I.E.L.D.'s doctors had thrown up their hands over his case.

From how Jan talked about Doctor Strange, she trusted the man. She said that Hawkeye approved of him, too. Jan tended to see the best in people, but Hawkeye was a lot more cynical. Apparently, though, Clint accepted that the mystical approach had worked. Well, Bruce himself had seen some strange things during his travels. He'd seen shamans at work. He was a scientist, but that didn't mean he couldn't accept that there were forces at work in the world that were poorly understood. 

He didn't even begin to understand how the Hulk existed, although he had mapped out the sequence to call him forth, both voluntarily and when his body reacted to fear or pain or anger and Hulk took over for them. So there was room in his belief system for both hard science and mysticism. Even magic. Look at what Loki and Amora had been able to do. Arthur Clarke's third law came to mind: any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. Maybe someday someone like Tony or Reed Richards would pin down the scientific basis for magic. 

Jan had said that Doctor Strange had chanted weird things and had held out an amulet he wore around his neck. It seemed to let him understand what was happening in Bruce's mind. 

He'd dreamed Jan and Clint had found him in a cave and... well. Probably he had somehow known they were in the room with him and just that fact, that they'd cared enough to stay, had bolstered him. He was extremely grateful to both of them.

He excused himself to shave, and looked hard at his image in the mirror when he'd finished. Being clean-shaven made him look more like the man he'd been before the accident— a professor, a man with a research job, not a hobo on the street. He'd stopped caring much about looking neat a long time ago. When he was on the run he counted himself lucky if he could stay even halfway clean. Shaving every day and getting his hair trimmed were luxuries he didn't often get to indulge in, and then it had started to seem pointless to even bother much with things like that.

He touched his hair, the unruly mop with uneven lengths caused by hacking at it himself with a knife now and then. He had maybe a day, a day and a half, to be out before it was Hulk's turn to take over. Maybe he'd try to get a haircut.

Then he remembered that he wasn't going to take up any of the team's time anymore, and no doubt one of them would insist on going with him to the barber shop. He'd wait, find a pair of scissors after he returned to the mansion, and give it his best shot at cutting his own hair again.

When he stepped back into the cell, Jan was talking to a tall black-haired man who was dressed outlandishly, his entire costume shouting out that he was either another superhero or was in show biz.

Jan smiled at him. “Bruce, this is Doctor Strange. He saved your life. I'm going to go and wake up Clint, get things ready for us to leave while the doctor checks you over.”

She stepped close to Bruce and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She grinned up at him, looking a lot like the pixie she resembled when she was teeny-tiny. “I don't like kissing stubble. Thanks for shaving.”

She smiled at Doctor Strange, too. “Stephen, it was so good to meet you and thank you again for everything you've done.” She walked over and hugged him, a quick, friendly gesture that told Bruce that Jan had added this man to her circle of friends. 

She left then and Doctor Strange asked Bruce to sit down on the bed. He shone a light in Bruce's eyes, had him follow it with his eyes as it was moved in various directions. 

He tapped Bruce's knees with a reflex hammer. “Doctor Banner, I'm aware of the decision you made to let Hulk have all the time out in the world. You almost died as a result of the struggle between the two halves of yourself. I was present, in your mind, at the crisis. With my help, Wasp and Hawkeye linked with you also. Without their aid, you, your thoughts and memories would have expired. You would not have been able to regain this body.”

He held out his palms. “Put your hands up against mine. Push both of them hard against my hands.”

Bruce complied, and Doctor Strange had him repeat the procedure using one hand at a time.

“I could not see past your death. However, I think that instead of Hulk keeping his body, he would have died also.”

Bruce drew in a sharp breath. “No.”

“Yes. I don't think that consequence occurred to you, did it?” He took Bruce's arm, manipulated it, and then did the other one. Meanwhile, Bruce sat there, shocked that he had almost killed Hulk. 

Doctor Strange felt his other joints and moved his head into different positions. He said, “Shrug your shoulders for me.” 

Bruce felt like all his muscles had turned to water. Doctor Strange frowned. “Bruce? Are you okay? Any pain, headache, nausea?”

“Did I hurt him? Is he okay? I... okay, I can let down the walls, but then if S.H.I.E.L.D. turns on me, then he'll be where he'll feel what I feel.”

Doctor Strange patted him on the arm. “I'm going to check on him, too. I don't think you're in danger here, but you don't have to talk to Hulk right now. You do, however, have to have a serious talk about this arrangement between you two. You can't continue to only be present for one day of the month. It's weakened you. You, young man, need to take better care of yourself.”

Bruce looked at him, a little thrown by the “young man” comment. He hadn't felt young for a long time. 

“I'm sending you home with followup care instructions. Eat right and sleep when you're in this body, exercise, and spend time with other people. I think you'd benefit from therapy, Doctor Banner. I suspect you're suffering from PTSD.”

He patted him again on the arm. “I want you to concentrate now so I can finish the exam. Shrug your shoulders for me.” 

Bruce did as he was told, answered all the questions, walked across the floor, closed his eyes while standing and Doctor Strange gently pushed him so he swayed on his feet. He ended up back on the bed and he had to stick his tongue out and then smile.

Smiling actually took some effort. Doctor Strange could tell, he knew.

“I'm ah, rusty at this. Sorry.”

Doctor Strange smiled back at him. “Maybe I should prescribe that you watch some comedies. Laughing and smiling is good for your body, Doctor Banner.”

Doctor Strange pulled on a chain around his neck, and an amulet under his shirt came free. He held it in one hand and touched Bruce on his shoulder.

“I'm going to check on Hulk. I want you to close your eyes now and do _not_ open them unless I tell you to. I'm going to touch your chest and your forehead, after I do an incantation.”

Bruce obediently closed his eyes. Doctor Strange said in a commanding tone, _I summon forth the all-seeing Eye of Agamotto! Now let my amulet open!_

Then he rucked up Bruce's sweatshirt and scrub top and placed his hand directly over Bruce's heart. Bruce felt his skin turn hot where they were touching. When a firm palm was placed on his forehead, he heard himself sigh loudly. 

He must have fallen asleep, because he didn't remember anything else until he was shaken awake. He realized he was under a blanket on the hospital bed. He blinked up at a new face, a green-eyed bald man with arms like tree trunks. He was holding a stethoscope. 

“I need to take your vitals, Doctor Banner. I'm Doctor Thomas Wilson. Doctor Strange needed to leave and he said to let you sleep until you woke up naturally or it was time to leave. It's time to leave if your vitals are good.”

Bruce sat up immediately and laid his arm on his thigh, palm up, so his blood pressure could be read. 

When Doctor Wilson was done, he nodded at the security camera. Then he looked back down at Bruce. “We're going to take some precautions when you leave this room, Doctor Banner. Please cooperate with us, and we'll all get what we want. You get to go home, we get to keep the helicarrier in one piece.”

There was that old S.H.I.E.L.D. attitude he was so familiar with. Bruce sighed and stretched his arms over his head. “I'd tell you that none of your precautions are necessary, but it would just be a waste of my time.”

The door opened and Maria Hill came in, along with Janet and Clint. Bruce waited to see if Doctor Wilson would acknowledge either one of the Avengers or if Maria Hill would say something to them. They might be hallucinations again. He'd rather not be caught talking to thin air and have it be decided that he needed to stay here. 

Distracted, he didn't notice Doctor Wilson's furtive hand movement until the prick of a needle had already done its damage.

Immediately he started feeling dizzy, listing to one side. Hands caught him and eased him down, his legs were lifted up on the bed. 

He was going under, and in another few moments he knew he'd be totally unconscious. 

Clint was there at his side, looking angry. “Bruce, I'm sorry. Maria didn't tell us you had to be sedated to leave this room. Look, Jan and I will be with you the whole time we're flying back to the mansion.”

He closed his eyes. He didn't know if that was really Clint or if it was Clint Hallucination, so he'd play it safe, like he was already asleep. It would be true before they wheeled him out of here.

Maria Hill said, very close to him, “Bring in the gamma dampener transport. Secure his hands in the cuffs. Barton, how do you like Tom Sawyer now? He's got more freckles than I realized.”

“How do I like him? I'd like him to be able to leave without this bullshit. I'd like it if S.H.I.E.L.D. stopped treating him like a criminal. Even if he did transform into Hulk, Hulk wouldn't tear anything up unless he was attacked. These precautions aren't necessary, Maria.”

So, Clint was really Clint if Assistant Director Hill was talking to him. Clint defending Hulk seemed normal. Clint stating that S.H.I.E.L.D. should stop treating Bruce as a bad guy seemed surreal.

He felt his arm lifted and something bulky fastened around his wrist, then the other one was secured.

Clint and Maria Hill were still arguing but he couldn't make out anything more than an occasional word and their heated tones. 

He tried to open his eyes when he was lifted onto a firm surface, but his eyelids didn't get with the program.

He felt his arm being squeezed lightly. Jan's voice cut through the fog in his head for a moment. “Bruce, I'm sorry. I'm going to have words with Fury over this. We all are. But you're safe. Clint and I will take care of you. Go to sleep, sweetie.”

He recognized the snick of the transport cover being locked down. It was S.H.I.E.L.D.'s standard method of transporting one of the gamma monsters they'd made or caught. He'd been in them more times than he liked to remember.

He tried one more time to open his eyes, to look at Clint and Jan. 

He couldn't, and he stopped fighting the sedative and let himself drop into sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

_Bruce_

He woke up in Hulk's bed, the room dark. He had no idea of the time, or even what day it was, or how long the sedative had kept him asleep.

But he was back in the mansion and that felt much better than being on the helicarrier.

He sat up, feeling small in the huge bed. He pushed the covers down. Somebody had taken off his sweatshirt and scrub pants, leaving him wearing the loose top and boxers. He dropped the walls within his mind and called out to Hulk.

And there he was, his image standing next to the bed, looking large and healthy. Bruce sighed with relief. 

“Hulk, are you okay?” 

“Hmph. Yes.” 

“I didn't hurt you, did I? I'm so sorry for putting you at risk.”

Hulk's image crossed his arms and tapped his fingers against one arm, a motion that told Bruce that Hulk was both thinking about something and starting to get annoyed. 

”I wasn't hurt. Can't say the same for you, though. For a genius, you're not that bright.”

Bruce made a face. “No argument from me on that point.” 

“Shouldn't have fought me,” Hulk growled.

”I'm really sorry.”

“You almost died, Bruce.”

“Fighting you like I did might have killed you, too. I should have thought things through more.” Bruce drew his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

“Doctor Strange and I had a long talk while you were asleep. You don't remember what exactly happened in the cave, do you?” Hulk looked curious.

“Not a lot, no. Listen, I won't fight you anymore, I promise. I'll take my day off like we agreed.”

Hulk snorted. “Oh, you're going to do more than that. It's time for a new deal.”

“What are you talking about?” Bruce bit his lip, feeling uneasy.

Hulk pointed to himself. “I've changed, you know. I know I'm not a monster. You and the Avengers helped me to see myself as a good person. I've grown up since the day you gave me control of our body.”

Bruce nodded. “I like hearing you say you know you're a good person. You are, you're a hero, Hulk.”

Hulk frowned. “But I've also been selfish, and you let me stay that way.”

“Selfish?”

“I only let you out once a month. And I think I needed that, at first, to be the one out in the world most of the time, to really trust you.”

Bruce shrugged. “I kept you mostly locked up inside me for years.”

Hulk looked at him severely. “Two wrongs don't make a right. I do trust you. In the cave, in our mind, I held you, and now I know everything you walled away from me. Being tortured. Our father beating you. How lonely you've been and how you grieved when you lost Betty.”

Bruce shook his head. “I never wanted you to feel all of the crap in my life.”

Hulk gave him one of his unimpressed looks. “These days, you think of me as a little brother. I like it. But I'm not a kid. You can share the crap.” 

Hulk came and sat down on the bed facing him but not touching. When they saw each other like this, they couldn't touch. 

Hulk said, “You hated what happened to your body after the accident.”

“I... I didn't understand, back then.” Bruce felt kind of sick whenever he thought back to those days.

”You're over it now. You love me. I felt that in the cave.”

Bruce nodded.

“I love you, too.” Hulk smiled at him. “And from now on, we're splitting the time outside equally. Unless the Avengers need me to fight.” 

“Why change things?”

“Doctor Strange told me how being kept inside for so long made you weak. Sick with depression.”

“But that's too much time to take away from you.” Bruce scrubbed a hand over his face and thought for a moment. “How about I come out once a week instead?”

Hulk scowled and pointed at Bruce, ”Don't make me angry, Bruce.” 

Bruce put his head in his hands, resting them on his drawn up knees. 

“Hulk...”

“Right now, I've got better judgment than you do about what's fair. So we're doing this my way.” Hulk crossed his arms over his chest again.

“Your way? What's your way?” 

“I'm still in charge. I'm not giving that up just yet, because you're going to have to prove to me that you're going to take care of that body.”

Bruce eyed Hulk, confused. “Are you sure you want to do this? Really, really sure?”

“I said so, didn't I?” Hulk said, grumpy.

Bruce flopped backwards and stared up at the ceiling. 

“You're kind of bossy, you know that?” 

 

* * *

He was lying there in bed still when Hulk told him something else he'd learned from Doctor Strange. Bruce cringed when Hulk said that all those hallucinations he thought he'd had – they weren't hallucinations at all. Clint and Janet really had been there with him when he'd sort of dreamed about being in a cave. Doctor Strange had done something mystical to pull that off. 

It had been the real Clint, not Hallucination Clint who'd talked to him when he'd come out of the coma. 

Hulk said. “So yeah, Clint really did kiss you. A lot.”

“Oh shit.” Bruce felt his face go hot.

“I like Cupid, too, but I don't think I'm ready to have sex with him.”

“Well, I'm not going to. He doesn't really want--”

“He does. He's, uh, got a thing for your freckles and long legs. And how smart you are. Try not to disappoint him, okay, by doing dumb stuff anymore like not eating or sleeping.”

“You can't be right about Clint. He thinks I'm a nerd, and he hates spending time with me. He doesn't like me at all. He was just pretending to when I was on the helicarrier. It's you he likes.”

“He likes us both. But he wants to do wicked things to you. Starting with licking your freckles. Have fun with him. I don't want to watch though, so put up the wall when he nails you.”

”Hulk! Shut up!”

Hulk chuckled, a deep rumble. ”And you need your own room. Don't have sex in _my_ bed, Big Brother.” 

“Hulk!” 

* * *

Bruce asked JARVIS where he could find a pair of sharp scissors and was directed to a craft drawer in the kitchen. He had them in his hand, ready to return to Hulk's room and cut his hair in the bathroom, when Clint walked into the kitchen and stopped in the doorway.

“Give me those.” Clint held out his hand, and Bruce put them behind his back.

“I'm not going to cut my wrists with them, Hawkeye. Excuse me, please.” He tried to step around Clint, but Clint somehow managed to block the entire doorway. Bruce was forced to look at him as he tried again to step around him.

God, he did not want to see Clint right now. Not after what Hulk had told him.

He felt himself starting to blush. Clint's blue eyes were kind of mesmerizing, and Bruce was having a hard time thinking.

Clint grinned at him, a wicked, knowing kind of grin. “Bruce, you look flushed.” He put his hand on Bruce's forehead, and then slid his hand around to the back of Bruce's neck for a long moment before letting go. “I don't think you're running a fever, though.” 

“I'm... okay. Um, let me out. I'm just going to cut my hair with the scissors.” He muttered, voice lowered to almost a whisper, “I promise I'm not going to hurt myself with them.” He was embarrassed, but after the stupid decisions he'd made over the last six months, he guessed he deserved to have to explain himself to people who apparently had been worried about him. 

“That's what JARVIS said. I'll do it. I used to cut a lot of people's hair when I was a circus kid. It's hard to cut your own and not butcher it.” He looked pointedly at Bruce's mop.

Have Clint touch his hair, running his fingers through it? “I...”

Clint snapped his fingers and held out his hand again. “C'mon, Doc. We all know you're a genius, but even a genius needs some help now and then.”

Bruce gave him the scissors.

* * *

“Don't stand in the hall, c'mon in. I won't bite. Unless you want me to.” Clint was holding the door open for him, and Bruce suddenly wondered why he'd gone along with going to Clint's room and not insisted they go to Hulk's. 

Clint was taking up twice as much space as he needed again and Bruce brushed against his body as he moved past him. 

Clint was right behind him. “So, this is my room. Big comfortable bed. Lots of pillows. Nice view, too.”

Bruce avoided looking at the bed and walked over to the window. Clint's room was on the top floor and overlooked the garden with its paths and benches and little waterfall.

Clint crowded in so close to him he could feel the heat from his body. Clint said,“You like the garden, don't you?'

“Umm, yes.”

“I've seen you meditating in it from up here. You know yoga, too, Jan said. I bet you can bend yourself into all sorts of positions.” Clint waggled his eyebrows and Bruce swallowed and moved away from Clint.

“I haven't done either for a long time.” He looked around the rest of the room. It was quite large, dressers, cabinets, desk and chair, a small couch. One cabinet had a bow leaning against it. 

Clint moved to it and unlocked the cabinet doors. He placed the bow inside and Bruce saw that there were other bows, quivers, and row upon row of Clint's specialized arrowheads. Locking up the cabinet again, Clint grabbed a plain wooden chair and placed it in front of the window. 

“This is a good spot. Plenty of light. Okay, into the bathroom now.”

Clint disappeared inside it, and Bruce slowly followed him. The bathroom was large, too. Really, Bruce had lived in places that were smaller than the bathrooms in the mansion.

Clint was standing next to the bathtub. It was huge. Four people could splash around in it. Clint turned on the faucet, adjusted the water. 

Then he straightened up and grabbed Bruce's arm. “Take your sweat shirt off.” 

Bruce pulled it off over his head. Clint said, “That shirt, too,” and started unbuttoning it. 

Bruce put his hands on top of Clint's to stop him after he'd gotten the first two buttons undone. “I can do it.” His belly felt heavy, languid. 

Clint smiled. “Okay, just trying to move things along. We're doing a pizza thing tonight, sort of a welcome back shindig for you.”

“Ah, I don't know. I should just--”

“Come to the kitchen and hang out. That's what you should do.”

Bruce finished unbuttoning and Clint slid his shirt off his shoulders before Bruce could. 

Clint picked up the shower head extension and put his hand on Bruce's back.

“Here, bend over the tub. I need to get your hair really wet. “ He kept his hand on Bruce's bent back for a long minute as he directed the flow of water, soaking Bruce's hair. Then he let go, but things didn't get any better because now his free hand was playing with Bruce's hair while he kept wetting it down.

“Okay. Stay put like that.” Clint turned off the water and Bruce felt a towel tousling his hair, and then another one was draped over his back. 

“Stand up. I'm going to pin this around your neck. Really, I should just get some real equipment, scissors, cape, but we'll make do today.”

He took a long time to pin the towel and his hands kept brushing against Bruce's bare skin. When he was done he grabbed a comb from a shelf by the sink. 

“Okay, go sit down on the chair.”

* * *

Clint took his time, snipping and combing, and Bruce wanted to squirm whenever Clint ran his fingers through Bruce's hair. He'd been very gentle and had hummed as he worked. He'd also massaged Bruce's neck muscles for a few minutes. Bruce felt kind of boneless, and his skin felt too sensitive. He wasn't sure, but he thought Clint had lightly kissed the top of his head when he was done. 

Clint said, “You've got stray hairs and they'll make you feel itchy. Go take a shower.” 

Bruce kind of stumbled into the bathroom.

He looked at himself in the mirror after he'd showered. Clint had kept Bruce's hair fairly long, but he'd trimmed a couple of inches off it, made it even. It looked pretty nice, he thought. Much better than he'd ever managed.

Wrapping a towel around himself, he was going to ask where his clothes were when Clint knocked on the bathroom door. He hollered,”You decent?” and then barged in. 

Clint looked at him, _really_ looked at him, and he hadn't even tried to look guilty about it. 

He'd just grinned at Bruce and had given him some sweatpants and one of his shirts.

He said, “I sent your stuff down to the laundry,” and left Bruce alone to change.

The pants were too big and Bruce went commando. He wasn't about to ask Clint to borrow his underwear.

The shirt was long-sleeved, green flannel, and warm. It was big on Bruce, but he liked the loose feel of it against his skin. He rolled the sleeves up to his elbows.

He walked out of the bathroom and Clint was lying down on the bed, propped up by pillows. Bruce knew he was going to be remembering how Clint looked, relaxed, his hair tousled. 

Bruce swallowed and said, “Umm, thanks. You did a really good job. I'll, uh, get your clothes back to you later.” He made a beeline to the door.

“Hey, Bruce?”

Bruce stopped and turned around. 

Clint said, “Pizzas will be here in about fifteen minutes. Show up, man, or I'm gonna come and get you. Everybody wants to see you.”

“Ah, okay. I'll see you there.”

He walked out of the room feeling clumsy and awkward. It wasn't until he was back in Hulk's room that he realized he'd left his shoes upstairs.

* * *

He put on his own boxers and jeans, but he kept Clint's shirt on, although he told himself that was a bad idea. 

He couldn't figure out Clint's motivation for flirting with him. It was flirting, he was pretty sure it was. Clint Barton was handsome, smart, funny. He was a catch, and he'd been the Black Widow's lover, for crying out loud. Why on earth would he act like he liked Bruce, when he'd had somebody sexy like that? And Bruce had heard that Clint and Bobbi Morse might have a thing for each other. Jan liked to gossip to Hulk, and she'd mentioned the sparks that had flown between them whenever they had a joint mission. He remembered Bobbi. She was really cute, with delicate freckles sprinkled across her cheeks and long legs, and Clint had told Jan that he admired her ability to dish back whatever somebody slung her way.

Wait. Long legs and freckles. Maybe... maybe Hulk had misunderstood Clint, and it was Bobbi he was attracted to, not Bruce. Bruce was just reading Clint wrong. If he touched him it was just to be friendly. Bruce had almost died, maybe that bought him a timeout from Clint's pestering him. That made much more sense to Bruce. And the kisses when he was dying? Maybe he'd figured out that Bruce was in 'like' with him and thought if he kissed him Bruce would fight to live. 

It had probably worked. He wasn't dying now, though, so Clint didn't have to pretend anymore that he was attracted to Bruce. Bruce would let him off the hook. He'd avoid him. After a while Clint would go back to treating him like a pain in the butt. They'd be normal again.

* * *

Clint had run his hand over Bruce's back when they'd met up in the kitchen for pizza with the other guys. 

“My shirt looks good on you. Keep it,” he'd said. 

Clint being nice to him flustered him ten times more than when Clint had been snarking at him.

Thor gave him a hug that lifted Bruce right off his feet. “Bruce Banner, it gladdens my heart to see you well again. Come, sit and share pizza with us. It is most delicious.”

“I will, Thor. Umm, everybody? Hulk and I need to tell you something. From now on, we're taking turns every other day being out. Unless, of course, Hulk is needed to fight. He'll be out tomorrow.” 

Nobody seemed surprised by his announcement, and he wondered if Doctor Strange had already told them what Hulk had decided.

Bruce let down the wall and Hulk's image appeared. He gave Bruce a message, which he passed on to the team. “Hulk says he wants pizza for breakfast tomorrow,” and Tony obligingly stuck two in the huge refrigerator after writing Hulk's name on the boxes.

The next hour and a half went by in kind of a blur. All through dinner Bruce kept trying to figure out what was up with everyone. 

He'd caught on after every single Avenger in the house – T'Challa was in Wakanda, and Vision off somewhere else – made a point of offering their talents to help him. Obviously, they'd had some sort of meeting about their problem not-really-a-team-member and decided to keep him busy with, well, busy work. It wasn't like they really expected him to be less of a liability, even if he learned what they offered to teach him. 

Thor had handed Bruce a sling, graceful cords and a pouch to hold rocks or metal balls, and promised to teach him how to wield it. It had been Thor's as a boy. Jan gave him a set of her old stingers. Cap volunteered to teach him self-defense. Tony said he was making him a virtual shield and weapon, like he'd done for Steve.

Clint had chimed in. “Hey, Tony, don't forget you said you'd make me one, too. Bruce, I'll show you how it works. We'll schedule practice sessions. And I'm going to show you how to shoot a bow.” Then he'd taken another bite of his sausage and mushroom pizza.

Bruce had looked at him dubiously. Clint was very protective of his weapons, and he had a hard time imagining Clint allowing anybody to get their grubby fingers on his various pride and joys. 

Clint had shot him one of his wicked grins. “Consider practicing with me payback for your haircut,” he'd said. 

Bruce had blushed again, cursing his ancestors for giving him such fair skin. 

Everyone had been so careful with him. They made sure he was included in conversations, that he ate enough pizza, and Jan had hugged him before she left the kitchen to go to bed. Everyone else had made a point of patting his shoulders or giving him a quick touch to his arms. 

Clint had thrown his arm around Bruce's shoulders while talking to Steve. “Cap, we should work out a training schedule for Bruce.” 

It had been all Bruce could do to just nod his head when it seemed like Steve or Clint needed some kind of response. 

He suspected that Doctor Strange had told Jan and Clint that he was touch deprived and that to help him feel less depressed, people should give him platonic physical affection. He expected that would wear off.

Bruce told himself not to get used to this kind of attention. All of these plans would get put on the back burner and things go back to normal between him and the team when more important things came up. 

Clint had walked with him to Hulk's room, his arm still around Bruce's shoulder.

“See you day after tomorrow, Bruce.” 

“Goodnight, Clint,” he'd said, and slid out from under Clint's heavy arm. He was half afraid Clint was going to try to kiss him, but Clint didn't. He just smiled at him and walked back down the hall. Bruce opened the door and stepped inside, feeling exhausted. 

After he went to bed, he closed his eyes, deciding that he should count his blessings as he got sleepy. 

He was here, not in a cell on the helicarrier. That was a big one. 

He'd had food to eat when he was hungry. 

He'd had more hugs, slaps on the back, and hands on his shoulders today than he'd had in a year. 

He and Hulk had talked with each other and had become closer. 

He'd gotten a haircut and a shave, and he was going to sleep with clean skin. 

Clint, for whatever devious reason, had been very accommodating with him. Since that probably wouldn't last, he'd treasure today for a long time. 

He drifted off to sleep with that last thought.

_Clint_

Clint was starting to get an inkling about how Bruce had managed to evade capture so often when he'd been a fugitive. He was awfully good about hiding in the mansion on the days when it was his turn to be out in the world. He'd somehow enlisted JARVIS to help him avoid Clint. JARVIS had said that unless it was an emergency, Doctor Banner had requested privacy regarding his whereabouts.

So Clint and Bruce kept playing this game of hide and seek. Bruce was never where logically you'd expect a genius scientist to be working. He didn't hang out in Tony's labs, and after the first time Clint had tracked him down in the old-fashioned library that had belonged to Tony's mother, Bruce had crossed that off his hiding places. 

He didn't stay in Hulk's room either, not anymore. Not since Clint had ambushed him there one morning, waiting patiently for Bruce to come out. He'd heard him stir as he was waking, so Clint knew he was in there, no help from JARVIS on that front, thank you very much. But Bruce hadn't come out and Clint had tired of waiting, so he'd knocked on the door and identified himself. He gave Bruce three seconds to open the door himself, and when he didn't, Clint picked the lock. 

Bruce, his hair endearingly mussed in every direction, barefoot, only in his boxers, had been at the open window, clothes in one hand, one leg over the window sill. 

“Caught ya, Doc. C'mon, go with me out to this breakfast diner. I need some company.”

Bruce had sighed, but he'd dressed under Clint's appreciative gaze on his legs. Every time he met Clint's eyes he would drop them again, his face pink. It was gratifying to watch Bruce forget to act like a Zen master. 

Clint had walked him out of the mansion and down the street with his arm around his shoulder, and talked for the two of them. Bruce could have shrugged Clint's arm off, but he didn't. He never did, and that was enough tacit permission for Clint to keep up his seduce Bruce Banner campaign.

Clint had stopped antagonizing Bruce. What was that old saying? Something about catching more flies with sugar than vinegar? Sounded disgusting, actually, but the meaning was clear. And it was working. 

His new tactic with Bruce, to see the real Bruce Banner and not just the protective calm and low-key shell he showed to the rest of the world, was working out much better. Clint kept flummoxing him, touching him whenever he could get away with it without crossing the line into creepy. 

Turned out that Bruce was shy. Oh, Bruce had opinions, especially when it came to scientific stuff. He could hold his own with Tony and Reed Richards when the three of them put their heads together on some urgent project. Still, when it came to Clint flirting with him, letting Bruce know non-verbally or with innuendos that Clint liked him and wanted to do a lot more than sling an arm over his shoulder now and then, Bruce looked a combination of intrigued and disbelieving. He worried his lip, he crossed his arms around himself, he stumbled over words trying to deflect Clint by only talking about house or Avenger's business.

Clint made him blush a lot. Clint enjoyed that. He'd whisper to Bruce that he was cute when he blushed, and Bruce would become even more flustered. 

After a couple of weeks of this, though, it felt like Clint wasn't making any more progress. Sometimes Clint wanted to wring Bruce's neck, because he never admitted he was avoiding Clint. And he did dutifully show up at the practices Cap and Clint had scheduled for him. He did as he was asked, did strength training, learned how to use the ultra-cool tech shield Tony had made him. Tony had put a picture of the Hulk's fist on the shield, and for the first time Clint had seen Bruce's mouth curve up in a slight smile. 

Bruce was agile and fast, now that he wasn't as run down physically as he had been. He told Cap about how he'd sometimes slid over the hoods of cars, climbed up fire escapes, jumped from rooftop to rooftop trying to get away from Ross and the Hulkbusters. He and Clint regularly sparred together, as the weeks grew into months, and while Bruce wasn't as practiced as Clint with shifting the tech shield into a pole for defensive and offensive moves, he eventually became good enough that Clint thought he now had a shot at protecting himself when he was being just Bruce. Clint mostly wanted him to use the shield part anyway, just in case he was ever shot with another adrenal inhibitor that kept Hulk from coming to the rescue.

The wrist band stingers Jan had given him had been ones she'd outgrown, since she'd learned how to use the bio-electric energy in her body directly to zing the bad guys.

Bruce practiced with them until he could shoot out green colored energy bolts against a target. He and Tony had geeked out over how the gamma radiation within Bruce's body had influenced the color and composition of the energy flashes. It had tickled Clint to watch Bruce become again the genius scientist who had designed the antidote to the Leaders' gamma weapons. Bruce's fingers had flown over equipment in Tony's lab, and he'd been intent and focused as he and Tony had finished each other's sentences as they figured out this latest puzzle.

To be honest, watching Bruce Banner like this turned Clint on as much as shy Bruce did.

Hulk was absolutely no help. He laughed at Clint whenever Clint tried to pump him about what Bruce thought about him. 

“Cupid, you're on your own with my big brother. And I tell him the same thing.”

Clint couldn't spend all of his time catching Bruce in his hiding places. There were bad guys to fight and missions to do. Clint still hadn't figured out which room Bruce was sleeping in, and thought it likely he switched them from night to night. The mansion was huge, and had lots more bedrooms than the Avengers ever used. 

Clint had even shot devices into the ventilation system a couple of times to see if he could spy on Bruce that way, but Janet had heard him. Shrinking down, she'd gone into the vents herself to remove them, and then had scolded him until he promised not to do it anymore. 

When Clint did manage to ferret Bruce out of a hiding place, he always made Bruce come and do something with him like shooting hoops or teaching him to use a bow. Clint made sure to have his hands on Bruce's arms, correcting his stance, crowding into his personal space. Bruce was always a little rattled by Clint touching him so much, so Clint was counting his flirting campaign a success.

Tony suggested that Clint teach Bruce to fly the quinjets, but Clint decided to start him off on a much smaller scale. One dawn, while staking out the kitchen, he caught Bruce cautiously entering. Clint was in the large walk-in pantry, the door barely slitted open. He waited until Bruce had grabbed some fruit and made himself a couple of sandwiches, obviously stocking up for today's bolt hole, before sliding out of his hiding spot and sneaking up on Bruce.

He slid his arms around Bruce's waist and murmured, “Tag. Great idea with the sandwiches. Let's go on a picnic,” chuckling when Bruce jumped and sputtered “Clint!”

“I've got the sky scooter all ready to go. You're going to have some flying lessons and we might as well bring lunch with us.” He gave Bruce a gentle shove towards the table. “I'll fix us some breakfast first. Something fattening, like French Toast. You're still too skinny.”

Bruce rolled his eyes, and Clint counted that as a small victory. More and more, Bruce was forgetting to be so guarded around him and the other Avengers. 

* * *

 

It was Thor who inadvertently gave Bruce away one night. Thor had wanted to recharge Mjolnir and flown up to the roof to call the lightning to his hammer. During one of the lightning flashes, he'd caught a glimpse of Bruce asleep, rolled up in some blankets in a dark part of the roof. 

How Bruce slept through the rolls of thunder, Clint didn't have a clue, but when Thor had returned to the kitchen, like Clint, in search of a late night snack, he'd mentioned seeing Bruce sleeping on the roof. Thor wasn't aware of this crazy thing going on between Clint and Bruce. Well, except for Janet, probably none of the rest of them were. Coming across Bruce like that probably hadn't struck Thor as that odd, because he liked being outside as much as possible, and sometimes he'd sleep out in the garden.

Clint was gone in a flash, hoping to catch Bruce before he disappeared again. Luck was with him. Bruce was still asleep, although he wouldn't be for long, because Thor had created a storm and a few big, fat raindrops had already started to fall.

Clint was pissed. No doubt Bruce had slept this way when he was on the run, and he should have figured out by now that he didn't have to do that here. Clint was mostly pissed at himself, though. He and Bruce were going to sit down and have a serious talk. Right now.

He hoisted Bruce, still asleep and snugged up in his blankets, into a fireman's carry and took him down the stairs and into the elevator and finally into Clint's bedroom, ignoring Bruce when he woke up, wiggling and demanding that Clint put him down in a sleepy, low voice. 

“Okay,” Clint finally said, and deposited Bruce on top of the bed. 

Bruce looked up at him, hair escaping from inside the hood of his sweatshirt, and damn it, how in the hell did a grown man manage to keep looking like a homeless kid? Bruce sighed and pulled the hood down, started untangling himself from the two blankets he'd been rolled into for the night.

Clint made a note to himself to give him another haircut tomorrow, because Bruce's hair grew like weeds. He sat down on the bed next to him and said, “Parlay.”

Bruce just kept looking at him, sleepy-eyed, confused. “What?” 

“We have got to get you to watch all of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies.”

“Clint... ”

“We're not doing this anymore, Bruce.”

Bruce nodded. “Okay. I knew you'd get over this... whatever this was between us.” He tried to slide off the bed, his face that calm mask once again. Clint put his arm around him and Bruce froze.

“Nope. That's not it.”

Bruce just sighed.

Clint shook his head. “We're going to stop this dancing around each other. We're going to actually talk about what each of us wants from the other one.”

“I'm sorry, Clint.”

“What have you got to be sorry about? No, I'm sorry. I've been trying to go slow with you, tease you, but this cat and mouse crap has got you sleeping out in the cold like you're a fugitive again.”

“Not exactly. There's a huge difference between sleeping here and being on the run.”

“Have you even slept in a bed for the last month, Bruce?” Clint kind of hated himself right now. 

Bruce shrugged but didn't answer the question, which was pretty much code for _No_.

Bruce sighed again, sounding resigned. “I figured you'd get tired of pretending to like me sooner or later, and then things would go back to the way they were before. “

“Pretending? Before? How were they before?” Clint asked.

“If we spend any time together, you'll get bored with me quickly, wish that Hulk was with you instead.”

“No, I won't.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. He said, quietly,”Yes, you will. But you'll tell me the truth, not tell me lies to make me feel better about myself. You told me I wasn't an Avenger, and you were right.”

Bruce tried to slide away but stopped when Clint wouldn't let him.

“Clint... it's okay.” 

“The hell it's okay!”

Bruce hugged himself. “You can stop touching me all the time.”

“I don't want to.”

“This is my fault. I shouldn't have let you keep touching me. I didn't have the willpower to just tell you I knew what you were doing; that's why I've been trying to avoid you.”

“Okay, Bruce, what was I doing with you?”

“You're a good person, Clint. Hulk told me that you did kiss me when I was sick. Somehow... Somehow you found out that I like you, that for a long time I've more than liked you, wished we were together, you know?” He looked down at his knees. “ I know you kissed me to try to save my life, but I'm alright now. You don't have to be friends with me or make me think that you want to be lovers. I... Can I go now?” He tried to slide off the bed again.

Clint put a hand on Bruce's chest. “No. No, you stay put on that bed. Bruce, honey, you drive me up the wall sometimes, you know that?”

Bruce looked trapped, and he hunched in on himself.

Clint said, “Okay, pay attention. I am not _pretending_ to like you. I think you're cute and sexy and I want to sleep with you. Is that clear enough?” Clint kept right on talking, but he tapped a finger against Bruce's chest, then flattened his hand against him again. Bruce's eyes flicked towards the door. “I'm not being nice; I'm being selfish because I want your mouth on mine, and your legs wrapped around my waist while I--”

“Clint!” Bruce put his feet on the floor and pushed Clint's hand down.

“What?” Clint's eyebrows rose. “I thought that now that you said you like me, and you know I like you, we could start doing something fun with each other.” 

“I don't believe you,” Bruce said. 

“Why not?” Clint asked, exasperated.

“You never liked me before I got sick.” 

“Maybe I got religion since then.” 

“I'm not dumb, Clint. Doctor Strange made you think that you need to be my rescuer, and from what Hulk told me, you and Jan and Doctor Strange did save me. Thank you for that.”

“You're welcome. But your theory is wrong, Doc.”

“I'm not wrong. I should have told you before to stop flirting with me.”

“Not gonna stop. It's my new religion.”

”This is my fault.”

“No it's not. Bruce, would you just listen to me?”

“I'm going to go now. Are we good? No more hide and seek? You don't have to spar with me anymore. I can practice by myself or maybe with Cap or Vision.”

“The hell you will. And stop trying to wiggle your cute little ass off this bed.”

“I'm not cute. Clint, just stop it. I'm okay. You aren't obligated to me.” Bruce patted him on the arm, and tried to stand up. Clint pulled him back down. 

Clint groaned. “You. Drive. Me. Crazy. For crying out loud, I'm not into pity fucks. Look, genius, I'm going to spell it out for you. You turn me on. I like your freckles. I wanna play connect the dots on your skin, watch you shiver when I do this.” Clint gently touched a couple of Bruce's freckles. Bruce was staring at him, his mouth a little open.

“You don't think you're cute? Bruce, _everybody_ thinks you're cute. Crap, even Maria Hill thought you were adorable.” 

Bruce made another incredulous face. “But forget your fan club. Concentrate on _me. I_ like your hair, your eyes, your mile long legs. I like to make you blush.” 

Clint tried to put all the honesty he could into looking at Bruce, and he grabbed his hand. Kissed it. Bruce was listening. His eyes had widened and his breathing was fast. 

“I really like making you stop being calm and see you flustered or annoyed.”

Clint said softly, almost whispering it, Bruce tilting his head closer, “I want to make you come so hard that you see stars.”

Bruce caught his bottom lip with his teeth and looked torn. He slid his hand free.

Clint grabbed it back. “Go to bed with me, Bruce. Right now. Don't stop and overthink it, because you'll talk yourself out of taking a chance with me.” 

He pulled Bruce closer to him. “Let me touch you, okay? Parlay means a truce, a time to meet and talk with each other with no tricks. I'm not going to hurt you; I'm not playing around here.”

Clint pulled Bruce's sweatshirt and two T-shirts free from the blankets and slid his hand under them, ghosting over Bruce's bare skin. 

“Let me, please? You feel so good under my hand.”

Bruce shuddered, and Clint could see his eyes dilating. He took his other hand and cupped Bruce. Bruce hardened, and Clint grinned. He took Bruce's hand and laid it over his own crotch so Bruce could feel proof that Clint wanted him.

“Bruce? You want me to keep touching you? Got to tell me you want this.”

Bruce nodded and tugged at Clint's shirt, trying to pull it off him. “I... okay.”

Clint moved his arms, making it easier for Bruce to pull off the shirt. “My turn.” He quickly toed off his own shoes and socks and slowly caressed Bruce, moving his hand to feel his nipples. They were hard little nubs and he carefully pinched first one and then the other, Bruce's soft, “Oh!” making his belly tense up with pleasurable anticipation. Bruce was so responsive. Clint was going to enjoy playing with him so much. 

He stripped Bruce of his clothes and shoes quickly, afraid he might change his mind if Clint went too slow, and laid him down on the bed, covering him with his own body, his arms holding most of his weight off Bruce. He kissed him, on the mouth, on his neck, and pushed aside Bruce's hair to get to the place on his ear that had made Bruce melt when they'd been in the cave. 

When he had Bruce making whimpering sounds, his hands clutching at Clint's shoulders, he rolled off him and yanked down the ratty sweatpants he'd slipped on for his trek to the kitchen. 

He lay down next to Bruce, and when Bruce shivered, Clint pulled a sheet and blanket partly up, and put a leg in-between Bruce's, the top of his thigh caressing Bruce's balls.

“How long, Bruce?” He moved his hand down Bruce's belly, slowly, delighting in the pleading sounds that were spilling from Bruce's lips.

“How long, honey?” Bruce had closed his eyes, and Clint pinched his nipples. Bruce's eyes opened and Clint kissed him.

“Look at me, and tell me how long it's been for you since someone made you feel as good as I'm going to.” 

Bruce stammered, “Y-years. Not since Betty and me. Clint... are you really?” There was a desperate note to Bruce's tone that Clint didn't like very much. Like Bruce thought this might not really happen.

“Hey, hey. I'm not going to make you wait. This isn't a trick. How does this feel; do you like this?” Clint used two fingers on Bruce's dick, a light touch that made Bruce whimper again.

Bruce shifted until he was facing Clint and then his greedy hands were all over Clint, his chest and nipples, his hair, his belly and lower, looking at him for permission before touching Clint's dick. Clint managed to get across that, hell, yes, Bruce should wrap his long fingers around Clint's dick and take him to heaven. But he kept slowly stroking Bruce, not hard enough or fast enough to bring him off, wanting to let Bruce's orgasm build and build before Clint took charge again and made Bruce fly to pieces.

Bruce's expression was wondering, pleasure strong in his eyes, his hands tentative at first, but quickly becoming sure and confident as he brought Clint right to the brink of orgasm. 

It was excruciating for Clint to put his hand around Bruce's and stop him. But he wanted Bruce to fall apart first, see what he looked like when his body had gone to the point of no return, watch him feel for at least that moment, safe, trusting Clint to take care of him, and to have some goddamned joy in life again.

He changed the rhythm of how he was touching Bruce, letting his hand curl around the head of Bruce's dick, watching Bruce's body arch up and listening to the gibberish sounding syllables pouring from Bruce's mouth. Hah. Quiet Bruce Banner was going to be a screamer. He debated muffling Bruce's mouth with his own, or placing a hand over his mouth, but decided to screw it. Let Bruce yell all he wanted. If anybody deserved to cut loose, he did. 

“C'mon, Bruce,” Clint whispered to him and nudged Bruce's balls again with his leg, feeling how tight and drawn up they were. “I've got you.”

He watched, fascinated, as Bruce screwed his eyes shut and came so hard that Clint hoped he hadn't pulled a muscle. And yeah. Screamer. He could probably tease Bruce about that and watch that delicious tide of pink wash over his freckled face. 

Bruce made a feeble movement with the hand loosely wrapped around Clint's dick. Clint took the hint and started sliding Bruce's hand up and down, tightening up their hands and feeling that ecstatic sensation begin to build again. He started murmuring encouragement to Bruce and let his hand fall to the side, letting Bruce do the driving again, the more erratic movements of Bruce's hand finally tearing a truly magnificent orgasm from him.

When he could think again, he rolled over on his back and pulled Bruce half on top of him. They were a mess, but he couldn't be bothered yet to grab something from their pile of clothing on the floor to wipe off their bellies and hands. 

Bruce's breathing was deep and slow, and Clint could tell from how relaxed he felt that Bruce was on the verge of going to sleep. 

“Going to do this with you a lot, Bruce Banner. God, you feel good.” Bruce made a sleepy sound that Clint chose to interpret as whole-hearted agreement.

“Go to sleep, Bruce.” They stayed that way for a time, until Clint felt sleep creeping up on him. He scooted out from under Bruce and blindly reached down on the floor, coming up with one of Bruce's T-shirts. He took care of himself and Bruce and threw it back on the floor.

He spooned up against Bruce's back, and put his arm around him, and sighed happily, drifting off to sleep well satisfied with his actions.

* * *

 

Their Avengers' communication cards woke Clint and Bruce up in the pre-dawn. Clint cursed, because he had planned on screwing Bruce again, make sure he knew that the night before wasn't a fluke, a one-time fling. 

Before falling asleep last night, he had figured out Bruce would probably need a lot more convincing before he accepted that Clint wasn't just indulging in curiosity by taking him to bed. Or worse, that Clint really was giving him a pity fuck. Bruce had trust issues the size of, well, Hulk.

It would be a challenge, getting Bruce to accept that Clint planned on staying his lover. Of course, who knew where this would end up, but that was true for any relationship. They probably needed to sit down and have a responsible talk about being exclusive or sleeping with other people. And figure out how Hulk fit into this thing between them. Hulk was Bruce, but the two of them, Bruce and Hulk, had decided to treat each other as siblings. Did Hulk want in on the sex? Clint would be okay with that if Bruce was okay with it. 

Right now, though, they had to scramble. After they'd both had a quick scrub with a washcloth, Clint pulled on his uniform and Bruce didn't even bother to put on his shoes or shirts, just the jeans that he'd worn last night. 

They didn't spare the breath to talk to each other, just ran to the Assembly Room, where Jan, T'Challa, Steve, Thor, and Tony were waiting. 

Clint slid to a stop beside Tony and said, “What's up?”

“The Controller's finally making a move. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s had agents trying to track him since he broke out of the RAFT a month ago, and he's come out of hiding in a big way. Fury's sending us Mockingbird; she'll be here in a few moments to get us up to speed.”

Bruce said, “The Controller. He's the one that bonded an exo-skeleton to his crippled body, isn't he? You've fought him before, right? Put him in the Vault a couple of times?”

“Yes,” Tony replied. “Guy's smart. Got degrees in chem, and electrical and mechanical engineering. He's creative, innovative. It wasn't easy putting him down. It was one of the first times I worked with S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Sitwell and I put him into a coma. I doubt that would work again, though. He'll have adapted his armor so that former weaknesses can't be exploited again...” Tony trailed off, and his eyes widened.

“Bruce, is that what I think it is on your neck?” 

Bruce looked startled and glanced at Clint. Oh, yeah. Clint had left a good-sized hickey on the side of Bruce's neck, right above his collar-bone. He'd been feeling a little possessive at the time.

Bruce swallowed. “Um.”

Thor frowned. “Who has harmed you, Bruce Banner? I will make them answer to Mjolnir. 

“N-nobody hurt me. I'm fine, I'm okay, I'm fine, so, ah, what's the plan with stopping the Controller?” Bruce stammered.

Tony, brown eyes curious, looked at Clint and jerked his chin towards Bruce. Clint nodded, and Tony winked, a broad grin on his face.

Jan shrank down and flew to Bruce's shoulder and whispered in his ear. They all watched, fascinated, the Controller momentarily forgotten, as Bruce blushed and covered his face with a hand, fingers spread wide like he was trying to scrub the color off it.

Clint decided that he might as well show Bruce that he had no intention of making last night some dirty little secret, so he moved close, pulled Bruce's hand away, and put an arm around him. 

“Scram, Wasp. I need to make something clear to my boyfriend.”

He tilted Bruce's chin up and kissed him. He kept it light, not the passionate, dirty kiss that he wanted to do, because hey, he knew that if he did, Bruce's embarrassment level would hit the roof.

Clint could be a nice guy. He'd be sure to make Bruce understand that this kiss was just a raincheck for the real deal. Later, after the mission was completed, he'd cash it in. With interest. 

Bruce was still blushing when Clint finished. Sweet. He loved having this effect on him. He palmed Bruce's cheek, enjoying the feel of the mostly smooth skin. Bruce hadn't had time to clean up this morning, but since he'd returned from the helicarrier, he'd shaved every day. Once Clint had made him hold still, and he'd counted Bruce's freckles, lightly touching each one. Bruce had told him he was nuts, but he hadn't stopped Clint.

He turned so he was facing their teammates, one arm slung around Bruce's bare shoulders.

“Your courtship has been successful then, friend archer. May good fortune bless you both,” Thor said loudly. “Perhaps we could someday indulge in the Earth tradition my Jane has told me of, the 'double-date.'”

“Sure. We can go bowling or something. Although I'm not sure a bowling alley would survive in one piece when you rolled the ball. We'll figure something out later.”

Bruce hadn't said a word. He still had a deer in the headlights look. 

Jan noticed. “You don't have to do anything you're not willing to do, Bruce. You have friends here.”

“Hey!” Clint loudly protested. “I would never do what you're implying, Janet. Never!”

Bruce came out of his fog then. “Um, Clint may be... persuasive, but anything that went on between us was consensual. And Hulk's taking over now. He's needed for this mission, not me.”

Bruce sounded a little desperate to Clint; he probably felt really awkward. Clint bet that he was dying to turn things over to Hulk. Clint didn't feel embarrassed; he never cared who knew about his love life.

Cap said, “Wait,” and strode over to them, authority heavy in every step. “I want to talk to you, Bruce.”

He took Bruce by the arm and Clint let go of him. Cap led Bruce far enough away that Clint couldn't make out what they were talking about. He saw Cap put his hand on Bruce's shoulder and Bruce looking up at him and nodding. Then Bruce turned and ran out of the room.

Cap walked back over to the team. Clint asked him, sarcasm strong in his voice, “Satisfied that everything between me and Bruce is on the up and up, Cap?” 

Cap smiled at him. “Hawkeye, would my opinion change anything about what you intend to do?”

“Not really. Yes, I slept with him last night. No, I don't care who knows about it. Yes, I want us to be together, and not just for the sex. I like him, okay? Look, I'm going to have a hard enough time convincing Bruce to give us a chance. I don't need everyone else on the team giving him second thoughts.” 

Clint pulled his hood off and ran a hand through his hair. “He's... And I. I mean, he's got these eyes, and I know what a hard time he's had and I just want to hear him laugh. So sue me; I just want him to feel good again.”

He looked around, and saw that Jan had her hand over her mouth, her eyes mirthful, and Thor was beaming at him. T'Challa had one eyebrow raised, for him that was practically a speech. Tony was rolling his eyes, a pitying look on his face. For him, he realized. Because he'd just sounded so...

Cap put his hand on Clint's shoulder and squeezed. “I think we'd all like it if Bruce was happy. I didn't talk to him about you, though. I told him that I wanted him prepared to help if we needed him on this mission. I sent him off to get his tech shield and stingers.”

“We're talking just for his own defense, right? In case Hulk goes down?” 

Clint really, really hoped that it wouldn't come to that, but Hulk had reverted to Banner a number of times: out of exhaustion, or because of gamma dampeners or adrenal inhibitors. Ultron had done it to him, too. If it happened again, Clint wanted Bruce to be able to protect himself, sure, but he didn't want Bruce trying to take on an adversary.

“You still don't think he's an Avenger, do you?” Cap cocked his head, regarded Clint thoughtfully.

“Well, no. I'm sorry, but I think it's the wrong thing to do to let Bruce think that he's one of us. He'll get hurt with that kind of thinking.”

Clint looked around, hoping that Bruce wasn't within earshot. This wasn't something he wanted to keep rubbing in Bruce's face. Bruce knew he wasn't an Avenger; he'd told Clint that. There was no reason to keep bringing it up in his presence.

Cap shook his head slowly. “If he was needed, I'd bet my shield that Bruce would fight as hard as he could to help. And to me, that makes him an Avenger.” 

Cap grinned at him. “I wish you and Bruce the best. I think you'll be good for each other.” Then his expression became serious. “If you hurt him, though, we'll be having a much different discussion, Hawkeye.”

“I'm not going to hurt him, jeez.” Clint looked around at the rest of the team, noting their expressions. “Okay, how many of you guys are planning on having the shovel talk with me?”

Everyone but Thor raised their hands. “Well, at least Thor trusts me to be a nice guy.”

Thor shook his head. “We are comrades-in-arms, Hawkeye. You are a fierce warrior and are to be greatly admired for your skill and courage. But should you break Bruce Banner's heart, we shall have the hammer talk.”

Clint sighed. 

* * *

_Hulk_

Hulk teased Bruce all the way back to the Assembly Room, ignoring his pleas to stop talking about Bruce being Hawkeye's boyfriend.

Rumbling out a loud chuckle, Hulk asked the image of Bruce, who was keeping pace with him, “What's that on your neck? A hickey? Something that happens to teenagers,isn't it, not world-famous genius scientists?”

Bruce, who had been shirtless in the image, suddenly changed to wearing a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up. 

”Little late for hiding it. All the Avengers saw it and know what you and Clint were up to last night.”

Bruce bit his lip. ”Well, it probably won't happen again.”

Hulk rolled his eyes. “Yes it will. Hawkeye likes you; he didn't sleep with you because he was bored and had nothing better to do.”

Bruce shook his head. “Clint was just, I dunno, curious or something.”

Hulk grumbled, ”For a genius, you're dumb. Cupid kissed you to show you and the team that last night wasn't a one night stand.”

Bruce said, “Well, we'll see. Bobbi Morse is probably here by now. Since Clint's gotten this thing for me out of his system, I bet he starts flirting with her instead.” Bruce's image looked uneasy, and Hulk decided he'd been teased enough.

Hulk said, “You're older than me; you've had a serious relationship before. But even I know that Hawkeye is serious. Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

Bruce's image shrugged, and Hulk thought back to what Doctor Strange had told him, that since childhood Bruce had struggled with valuing himself and that being a fugitive, the losses he'd experienced with friends, Betty, his career, and more recently, his imprisonments, had really battered at his self-worth. Hulk could relate. He'd been called a monster so many times that he'd had trouble not thinking of himself that way, until he saw how the Avengers saw him. As a hero. Bruce had told him he could be one; Bruce was very proud of him now and told him that all the time. 

Bruce had tried to help other people his whole life, but he didn't think he was any kind of hero. Or even a very good person. Well, maybe Bruce needed a little rescuing from himself. He was slow to ask for what he wanted. Hulk knew how to play him, though.

”How about we make a little bet between us?”

“A bet?” Bruce didn't sound very interested.

“I say he won't flirt with Mockingbird, and that he takes you back to bed.”

“Hulk...”

“If you win, I promise to not mention last night again to you, ever. If I win, you tell Tony you want to work in his labs, consulting.”

“I don't want to bet you.”

“You don't like making money by answering science questions.”

“I make enough on those websites. And I don't want to bet you.”

“Something else for the bet. Ask Clint to go with you to the cabin.”

“No.”

“Nobody's caught on that you don't leave the mansion unless Clint drags you out or Jan makes you go shopping with her for your new clothes.”

“Hulk, you know I don't want to take any time away from the Avengers so they can indulge me in my whims. It's my way of helping them.”

“They don't mind, you moron.”

“I mind.”

“Huh. You'd better take the bet, because I'm upping the ante. If you win, I won't spill the beans about you not wanting to ask for favors.”

“But you will, if I don't take the bet?”

“Smart boy. You need your head straightened out about asking for what you want. So either bet me, or I'm telling them when this mission is over.”

Bruce's image scowled at him. “You're blackmailing me. What have we talked about all these years regarding ethics?”

“It's for your own good. Now bet me, or accept the consequences.”

“Damn it. Alright, alright, I'll take the bet.”

Bruce pouted at him, and Hulk thought he looked hilarious. Clint would laugh himself silly if he saw that look. Really, Clint and Hulk had the same sense of humor. It was one of the reasons they got along so well. Bruce's expression became serious. “I think you'd better put up the wall now. We're almost back to the Assembly Room and I'm afraid all of this drama might keep you from focusing on the mission.”

“Hmph, you're probably right. I won't even mention that you don't want to hear any more teasing, or look at Cupid right now.”

From the look on Bruce's face, Hulk had gotten that right, but he decided to have a little mercy. He let Bruce's image fade from his mind.

He hoped there would be something for him to smash on this mission. All this talk about feelings had left him itching to destroy something.


	6. Chapter 6

_Hulk_

“Hulk!” Cap shouted. He pointed to the five massive roboids marching down 68th Street, away from the Research Center at Rockerfeller University. “Take them down!”

Hulk jumped, landed on one of the roboids, and started pummeling it with his fists. Thor's hammer whizzed past him to strike another one of the giant robots, sending it flying into a tall building and destroying half the multi-colored bricks as it slid slowly to the ground. 

Hulk tore off the head of his roboid, taking satisfaction in the slowly dying whirring noises the monster robot made as it fell over, dead. He flung himself towards the one Thor had knocked down, landing on it with both feet, feeling the metal dent as he landed. He stomped it again for good measure a few times, until it had stilled and parts from its chest were scattered and flattened around the huge body. 

A red and gold streak reversed itself to hover in front of Hulk. Iron Man. Thor flew up next to him and hung in the air, but Hulk could tell he was impatient to take his hammer to the other roboids.

“Hulk! Thor! Cap needs Thor; we're going after the Controller where he's holed up in the Research Center. Got this, Big Guy?”

Hulk grinned, pleased that he would get the fun of smashing the rest of the giant robots, who had picked up speed, their long thick metal legs taking them rapidly down the street. They weren't destroying anything other than the cars in their way.

“They're easy to smash.”

Thor saluted Hulk with his hammer. “Good hunting, friend. Be wary, it is odd that these metal monsters have not fired any weapons at us.”

Iron Man said, “Keep an eye on the perimeter. This does seem too easy; the Controller might have something else planned to take us out.”

Iron Man and Thor hurtled through the air towards the edge of campus, where the Controller had been located by S.H.I.E.L.D. Hulk knew that Fury's second in command, Maria Hill, was there, directing S.H.I.E.L.D. agents to search the buildings, working with the police and campus security to clear out civilians. 

Hulk bent his legs and jumped after the disappearing roboids, thinking about Maria Hill's talk with Bruce after his coma. She'd told Bruce that she'd look into his allegations that he had been tortured by the Army and S.H.I.E.L.D. Bruce was sure the proof was there on film somewhere within S.H.I.E.L.D.'s records. He'd said that the people who'd hurt him considered themselves researchers, and that they wouldn't get rid of their data. 

In return, Bruce had agreed to talk to Hulk about registering as a superhero with S.H.I.E.L.D. Bruce had done so, saying that it was up to Hulk to make the decision, since he was the one with the superhuman abilities. Bruce played professor, though, covering the possible advantages and disadvantages for the people S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted to control and for society.

He used a Starktablet to show instances in history in which groups of people were required to register with a government. He let Hulk read about it on his own, saying that he had his own opinion and he didn't want to influence Hulk. Hulk read about the camps during WWII where Japanese-Americans had been sent. Germany, under Hitler's regime, had made it the law that some people— Jews, Gypsies, homosexuals, among others— had to be registered. And how some special populations were treated: discrimination. Extermination. 

When Hulk asked Bruce more about what he was learning, Bruce told him it was estimated that there was a sizable mutant population that were basically hiding their abilities, afraid to be seen as different. The mutants who had banded together for protection were uneasy about any proposed laws. The Fantastic Four against regulation, from what Bruce had learned. 

People born with special powers, people like Tony Stark, who'd used technology to make themselves superheroes, and people like Bruce, who'd had some sort of accident or changed themselves on purpose, all of them would come under the registration proposed by S.H.I.E.L.D. If they weren't registered and they fought to protect other people, then they would be seen as dangerous vigilantes, with the potential to cause great harm.

The Avengers had been called vigilantes before by S.H.I.E.L.D. 

Deciding that he would think some more about all of this before he figured out what was right to do, Hulk focused on his current task. Two jumps brought him to the nearest roboid. He grabbed it and jumped high into the air, and then, with a look to make sure no people were in the way, he hurled it back down. Watching as it fell apart, he leapt towards the next metal monster. 

Maybe after the Controller was back in custody, and the last two roboids a pile of screws and bolts and dented metal, he'd give Assistant Director Maria Hill her answer.

* * *

_Clint_

Clint let the sky scooter hover a few feet above the sidewalk and waved at Bobbi Morse, who had just ushered two scared looking college kids out of the Greenberg Building and turned them over to waiting S.H.I.E.L.D. agents.

Clint said, “Okay, I think we've cleared this building of students and staff. I've swept through the upper floors and they're empty now.”

“Bottom two floors and the basement are cleared, too. Any word yet on where the Controller's holed up?” Bobbi pulled her mask off her face and looked inquiringly at Clint.

“He's in the building next door. He made the students and teachers assemble those robots in that other building the school is remodeling. The roboids took a hike through the walls, but Hulk will take care of them.”

Bobbi stepped closer, putting one hand on the scooter. Like this, Clint was at eye level and she looked at him speculatively. “Speaking of Hulk, I was talking to Jan and she passed along some interesting news.”

“Janet always does. What'd she lay on you?” 

“Are you really seeing Bruce Banner now?”

Clint made a production of looking at his watch. “Well, that didn't take long to get out. First kiss and first... everything, was last night.”

“'Cause I have to say, I didn't see that one coming,” Bobbi said.

“Why not? Have you seen Bruce? He's a cutie-pie. Got freckles, and you know I like those.” Clint grinned at her. He'd teased her enough times about hers. “He's a doc, too, Doctor Morse.”

“Because I know you, Hawkeye.”

“Maybe I'm ready to reform.”

“You? You've flirted with me since I used to pilot your ship.”

“Those were the days.”

“Back then, I wasn't ready to date anybody. I'd give it a shot now, though.” Her eyes swept his body, from his boots to his hood. “I was hoping you and I could spend some time together after this party is over. Have our own private party, you get me?”

He looked at her pretty face, the cute freckles, her lovely figure that her costume accented. Bobbi's philosophy was that it never hurt to distract the villains with a few curves. He wasn't even tempted, that was how bad he had it for one shy scientist.

“Yeaah. Bobbi, if you'd made that offer back then, I'd have gone for it.”

“But not now. Because of Bruce Banner.”

“We've got something going and it's good. I'm not gonna go off the reservation and mess it up.” Clint smiled at her. “No hard feelings. Friends?”

“Raincheck. Call me if it doesn't work out with him.” Bobbi winked at him.

Clint said, slowly, “Hey. A favor. Don't screw with him, okay? Can the flirting from now on with me.”

Bobbi said, “Excuse me? I don't see a ring on your finger.” He could hear the laugh in her voice.

“Yeah, funny. But I'm being serious. You owe him, remember? He, the Hulk, kept our jet from crashing; he saved your life and he paid for that.”

“I remember you going to the Cube to check him out. Guess you did. But yeah, I do owe him. I won't poach on his territory.”

Clint said, “It's just that he has a hard time believing that good things can happen to him. He's a keeper. I'm not throwing him back.”

“Hmm. Clint Barton being all protective. Maybe he's the one to make an honest man out of you,” Bobbi said. 

“Maybe.”

“Actually, getting to that level with you is more of a challenge than I want to take on. So, Mazel Tov, congrats, good luck and all that.” 

“I'll tell him you gave us your blessing.” Clint smiled, picturing Bruce's bewildered face.

“Oh my God. You've got it bad.”

Cap's voice broke into their conversation. “Cut the chatter, Hawkeye and Mockingbird.”

Jan flew up next to them, pixie-sized. “Hawkeye, your comm line is open. We all heard you two.”

Hawkeye tapped his comm, and set it back to listening mode. “Oops.” 

He wasn't sorry. He'd tell Bruce about this later. Bruce's face would heat up with embarrassment, which Clint wouldn't mind, not one little bit. He could admit that he might have developed a kink about seeing Bruce blush, and Bruce would be pleased that Clint had fielded Bobbi's pass. And he could totally get oh, Jan, or Tony, to back him up on that.

Jan poked Bobbi on the shoulder. “Told you.” She flew back towards Cap and T'Challa, who had also been clearing the area of civilians.

“Mockingbird, report to Hill immediately.” The order was loud enough that Clint heard it easily from the communication device on Bobbi's shoulder. 

“This is Mockingbird, on my way.” Bobbi replaced her mask and looked at him. “Give me a lift?”

“Sure.” He tapped his own shoulder and informed Cap what he was doing. Bobbi climbed on behind him and he flew the scooter ten feet up in the air, letting it hover again.

Bobbi pointed to the building across from the Research Center. “Hill set up a command center at Founders Hall. Hang around, okay? We might as well work together, friend.”

 

* * *

Clint used the time while Bobbi met with Hill to check back in with Cap. The sensors in Iron Man's suit had broken through the protective energy shield the Controller had used to keep his location secret, and they were getting into position before they made an all out assault on the jerk. Cap told Clint to work with Bobbi on what Hill wanted done, and then to join their assault. 

Clint was checking over his arrows when Bobbi returned. He quickly refilled his quiver and slung it on his back. She didn't say anything to him, just slid onto the scooter behind him.

“Okay, what're our orders?” He revved up the scooter's engines, waiting to be told what direction to go.

Instead, he felt Bobbi moving closer to him. She pulled his hood down, and her cool fingers touched the back of his neck, her mouth so close to his ear that he felt her breath, warm and just a bit arousing. He sighed. Bobbi sometimes didn't know when to just back off, whether it was from a fight or from angling for a date.

“Ah, Bobbi? This is supposed to be a no-flirting zone, remember?”

He stiffened then, as metal, oddly warm, was slapped against the skin at the back of his neck, and brief pain bloomed. He couldn't move to grab whatever she'd stuck on him, though. Bobbi's voice in his ear was hers, but the words weren't. 

“My Hawk, I've slipped the jesses on you. Hill and the rest of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are under my control now. You and Mockingbird will take down Iron Man and the rest of the Avengers. Except for Hulk. His thick skin won't allow my control disks to work as they should. That's all right. I have someone else in mind to break him.”

There was a sizzle of pain, much stronger than the first time the control disk had zapped him. It ran throughout his body, setting his nerves on fire, but he couldn't scream out loud. The Controller's words, smooth, so powerful, filled his brain and a part of him sat back and watched in dismay as the Controller told him, mind to mind, exactly how to turn the rest of the team into the Controller's mindless slaves. 

Bobbi reached around and handed him a small pouch. He opened it to see a handful of disks.

He slung his quiver off his back and began his task of destroying the Avengers.

* * *

  


_Bruce_

 

Hulk had no problem dispatching the fourth roboid. He stomped his feet hard and the pavement buckled under the giant robot, causing it to wobble dangerously. Hulk jumped up and flung himself at it, hitting it with both of his hands clubbed together. It fell over and he followed it down to the road, and kicked its head off. 

He was a little disgruntled that the roboids hadn't been more of a challenge. They hadn't attempted to actually fight him; they'd scuttled away as fast as they could. The last one had just crossed Third Avenue, which was a few blocks from the mansion. Hulk bounded after it, ready to be done with this task and return to Rockerfeller University to help the rest of the team take down the Controller. 

Mockingbird had briefed them on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s latest intelligence on the Controller. Unlike Iron Man's armor, the Controller could drain energy from the victims he enslaved with his mind control disks to help power his exo-skeleton. He could shoot out bolts of energy, make stun mist too. 

The Controller was a powerful enemy, but Hulk knew that Tony would not think much of his roboids. If Antman were still an Avenger, he wouldn't either. Neither would Vision. Hulk would tell Vision just how easy it had been to destroy these roboids, when Vision returned from his own solo mission. 

He jumped to catch up to the last roboid, and it turned and faced him. A panel slid open on its chest, and he saw a red-headed woman, arms spread wide, holding onto the inside of the machine. She wore a tight green and yellow costume with a black and white cape.

Hulk was startled and decided he needed to remove the woman first, so she wouldn't get hurt when he destroyed the roboid.

He let himself land in front of the enormous golden machine, and prepared to jump up to grab her gently from the chest piece, not sure if she was a hostage or an accomplice.

The woman opened her mouth, and a wordless song filled the air. It was so beautiful, so lovely, and he stood transfixed. He couldn't move a muscle, couldn't say anything. 

Soothed, he felt calmness overtaking him. He couldn't stop it. He felt himself shrinking down, and then it was Bruce who was on the outside, and he was inside, and cocooned in warmth and acceptance. As he fell into a trance, he lowered the wall. With a last effort, he pushed his knowledge of everything that had happened to Bruce.

This woman had stopped the Hulk. It was up to Bruce now to help the Avengers. 

* * *

_Bruce_

Bruce slumped down on his knees, confused as he sorted out what Hulk had tried to tell him. Someone, this red-headed woman probably, was trying to manipulate them, because neither he nor Hulk had triggered the transformation.

That couldn't be good. She must be working with the Controller. Her song was becoming stronger, closer, and for the life of him, Bruce couldn't move. It was like he felt sometimes when he was on the verge of falling asleep, when his muscles were pleasantly paralyzed. 

She floated down, a vision of loveliness, holding his damnation in her hands. 

A gamma dampener collar. 

Still helpless, in thrall to the music pouring from her throat, his heartbeat slow and steady, mired in calm, he couldn't even lift his hands to block her slender arms from bending down and placing the collar around his neck. 

It locked and a painful shock traveled through his body, causing him to spasm briefly.

He found that he could make sounds again, though, and he couldn't stop the low guttural groan from escaping. 

The woman's singing had dropped to almost a whisper. He looked up at her, dismayed at the power she'd had over Hulk. She produced a pair of ordinary looking handcuffs and stepped behind him. He tried to get to his feet and run away from her, but she just increased the volume a little more and he collapsed on the ground. He heard the snick of the handcuffs locking around his wrists. 

There was silence then, and Bruce struggled back to his knees. The woman was still behind him. She knelt and put her arms around him, drawing him back against her.

She put her lips on his ear, and he had a flash of memory of Clint's lips against the edge of his ear, the sensual feel of his tongue as he had unerringly found the place that made Bruce want to just spread his legs as wide as he could and beg Clint to fuck him.

This woman made no attempt to seduce him like that, though. Instead, she began to talk in a conversational tone of voice.

“Doctor Banner. I thought you'd be bigger.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. He knew that Clint would have taken an opening like that and run with it, but he didn't like to make sexually suggestive jokes. Well, maybe sometime he would with Clint. After the Avengers showed up and freed him. 

He coughed a little. “Well, that was... unoriginal. Everyone always expects me to be bigger. Who are you and what do you want?”

The woman spoke again in a low, lilting voice. “Basil Sandhurst. Your new employer. I'm afraid that I don't have time today to explain your new schedule for lab work to you. And now that my Siryn has rendered the Hulk impotent, I'll have to decide what to do about you. Hmm. I hate to squander one of my disks upon a foe who is quite harmless without it. After Tony Stark begins mass producing my disks, of course I'll spare one for you then. But for now, I really must use my resources wisely. Well. I shall let the Avengers decide for me. Until then, Siryn will keep an eye upon you.”

The red-headed woman, Siryn apparently, let go of him then, and stood up. Bruce tried to get to his feet, but she hummed that sweet song again and he slumped down, his muscles barely keeping him from collapsing on the road.

Basil Sandhurst was the Controller. Either Siryn was being mind-controlled with one of his disks, or she was an accomplice. Since the Controller had used her to talk to Bruce, he was betting she had a disk implanted on her skull somewhere. Maybe under that beautiful fall of hair. The huge roboid was only a few feet away from him, but not moving anymore. A crowd was starting to gather and he heard sirens coming closer. The Controller wouldn't want to leave them here, within walking distance of Hunter College. 

Altering her song to sweet sounds that made Bruce think of Betty and the head over heels feeling he'd had of falling in love with her, Siryn projected it to the curious crowd.

The crowd dispersed, smiles on their faces. When the police cars hurtled to a fast stop a bit down the street, Siryn merely directed the song their way and in a few minutes the cops were returning to their cars, soft smiles on their faces, pulling sedately away. 

Bruce was lost in memories. He was aware of what Siryn was doing, that his feelings were being manipulated, but it didn't stop him from reliving emotions he'd felt with Betty. And he knew when Siryn stopped singing that he was going to be left heartbroken once again.

Clint, what had happened with Clint was too new, too uncertain, for feelings of love for Clint to be drawn from him. 

Bruce wasn't sure how long he waited in that excruciating state of limbo, but the sound of the sky scooter made him look up. Siryn rose up in the air, a different melody powering her gentle movement back up and into the roboid.

The scooter dropped to about six feet from the ground and Clint looked down at him, a blank look on his face. His eyes held no expression. 

“Banner. You don't look dangerous to me.” He parked the scooter next to Bruce and climbed off. He pulled Bruce to his feet and spun him around, held him against Clint's chest in an awful parody of an embrace. Bruce felt Clint's hand in his pocket, and he brought out Bruce's Avengers card, his stingers and the tech shield bracelet. He let Bruce go and carelessly tossed them up and down in the air.

“Controller? He's as harmless as a puppy. I took away his toys, not that he could have done real damage with them, since he's not an Avenger. Hulk is, but that collar will keep him from showing up. What do you want me to do with Banner?”

Bruce watched as Clint nodded at what the Controller told him. He dropped the card, shield bracelet, and stingers into a pocket in his uniform. Clint waved at Siryn, who closed the hatch on the roboid -- Bruce had started thinking of it as a two-legged Trojan Horse – and it bounded away, down Third Avenue, to wreak more havoc.

Clint looked at Bruce with mild indifference, poles apart from the look given to him when they'd woken up this morning, Bruce warm in Clint's arms. Bruce felt as awful as he'd expected. He'd lost Betty so long ago, and all the old pain had returned. And now he'd lost Clint, too. This version of Clint didn't care about him. 

“C'mon, Banner. Let's go stash you at the mansion. The Controller plans on being there later, after he takes over Stark Industries. Everything that belongs to Tony Stark will belong to the Controller now. He's going to take the disk off Tony long enough for Tony to really feel how the Controller has bested him, and then Stark will go back to being the Controller's pet monkey. You, too. Controller wants you working in his labs.”

He pulled Bruce over to the scooter and made him sit in front of him. Bruce's balance was shaky, with his hands secured behind his back, and Clint snaked an arm around his waist and held him securely against his chest. Another sham embrace, and Bruce hated every second of it. 

They were only a few city blocks from Avengers Mansion, so the ride was mercifully short. Clint hustled Bruce inside, using his Avengers card to gain access. JARVIS didn't greet them and Bruce supposed that the Controller had ordered Tony to turn him off.

Clint didn't say anything to him. Or rather, the Controller didn't have anything to say to him. Bruce just kept his head down, concentrating on seeming harmless. Helpless. Clint had encouraged him to learn to use the tech shield and stingers, but deep down, he still didn't think Bruce would be any good at using them to save himself or anyone else. His comments to the Controller showed his true feelings. 

Well, let him underestimate Bruce. Clint was leaving him alone in a house equipped with labs and weapons. He'd be damned if he'd just sit quietly while the team was in danger.

If Clint and Hulk and Tony had been compromised, Bruce was very afraid that T'Challa, Jan, Cap, and Thor had been also. 

He was surprised that he ended up in Clint's bedroom, but Clint just pushed him down on the bed and undid one of the cuffs, and then snapped the loose end around a brass headboard spindle. Clint brought him a glass of water and set it down on the bedside table, stashed a wastebasket next to the bed.

“Get some sleep. The Controller will want you well rested when he puts you to work. I told him that you're often tired after changing back from Hulk.” Clint gave him a shove, not hard, impersonal. Bruce lay down, and Clint pulled a blanket up over him.

It should have been a sweet gesture, something a lover would do for his partner, but from Clint's expression it had been just another chore.

Clint turned off the lights, closed and locked the door. Bruce waited, listening, but he didn't hear any movements. Then he sat back up and tugged at his left wrist. There was a little play in the cuff, because he had managed to tighten his fists when Siryn had cuffed him. He opened the bedside table, looking for something to use to pick the cuff's lock, but there was nothing obvious. Clint wouldn't be that sloppy, anyway. Unless he was fighting the mind control, but as far as Bruce could tell Clint was well and truly trapped in the Controller's snare. 

Bruce rubbed his right hand over his face. He checked his pockets, in case Hulk had put something in them that he could use, but the only thing there was a gum wrapper. Cinnamon gum was Hulk's favorite and Jan kept him well supplied. And that wasn't going to do a thing to help him escape.

Clint had done him an unwitting favor by leaving one hand free. He looked into the trashcan, hoping for something he could bend into a handcuff key, but it was empty. There were no pens or bobby pins or paperclips within grabbing distance, either. 

Well, it wouldn't be the first time he'd dislocated his thumb to escape handcuffs. Of course, it was much easier to let Hulk break them out, but sometimes he'd wanted to be quiet about leaving. Hulk was a great guy, loyal, protective, but quiet he was not.

He drank all the water in the glass, then shattered it and cut several small gashes into the meaty base of his handcuffed hand. The blood would make it easier to slip the cuffs off, once he'd dislocated his thumb.

He did it quickly, swearing from the pain, and tugged against the metal, making his hand as small and as slippery as he could.

He'd have to come back later with a hazmat kit to clean up the blood splattered sheets. It was the least of his worries, though.

It didn't happen very fast, but at last he was free and he gritted his teeth as he fixed his thumb. 

He went into the bathroom and bandaged his hand. He swallowed a couple of aspirin, too, hoping it would dull the pain from the cuts and the contortion he'd had to do. 

The next step was getting out of this room and then re-booting JARVIS. Once he'd done that, he could notify S.H.I.E.L.D. – No, he couldn't. Some of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents must be compromised. The gamma dampener collars were S.H.I.E.L.D. tech and controlled by them. Even Ross had been forced to go through S.H.I.E.L.D. to get his hands on them. Bruce didn't know whom he could trust.

He was afraid to contact the Army. If they knew he was here, alone, with Hulk unable to come out, they might do a snatch and grab on him, pardon be damned. Ross was in custody, but Major Talbot would gladly take his place. He'd always been jealous of Betty's love for him, and he'd be thrilled to turn Bruce into a version of the Man in the Mask in some forsaken hidden facility.

The X-men, the Fantastic Four— they might well be compromised by now. 

Bruce made up the bed with pillows to look like he was under the covers. Once JARVIS was back up, they'd make a false vid of him sleeping and set it on looping, in case anyone checked on him with the security monitors. JARVIS could unlock any door in the mansion.

He was going to have to cut the head off the snake. He had no illusions about going one on one with the other Avengers with the idea of taking them down and removing their disks. Any one of them would take him out instead. But, if he could disable the Controller's armor, then everyone under mind control would be freed. 

Siryn was going to be a problem. Ear plugs seemed like an easy solution, but it was probably more complicated than that. He needed to do what he did best. Research. Hiding. And to do that he needed out of this room. 

He left the door alone. He didn't want to leave any signs of tampering that the others would notice.

He went to the window and opened it. Clint's bedroom was on the top floor, and there was no ledge outside to stand on. Probably Clint had considered the window as an escape route, and thought that the height would discourage Bruce from trying to climb out.

It wasn't something he was looking forward to doing, true, but he could manage it. He looked around the room. He could make a rope out of sheets, but he didn't think there was enough material to get him down to the ground. And it would leave a very visible sign that he had escaped if the Controller came back with his entourage before Bruce could get back in Clint's room to get rid of the evidence.

So he would go up instead.

 

_

Clint

_

 

The Controller stood on the steps of Avengers Mansion and waved for the crowd that had accompanied him there to move closer. Once his minions had crowded the front lawn, he had made the sort of self-congratulatory speech – praising his own genius – that was guaranteed to elicit snark of the very highest quality from Clint.

Except it wasn't like he could actually talk for himself right now.

Bruce had described to Clint and Tony once how he had seen himself, imprisoned in Hulk's mind by Amora. The real Banner had chains wrapped all around his body, keeping him from being able to talk to Hulk, while the false Banner, Amora's magical dupe, had done his best to enrage Hulk by telling him the Avengers didn't trust him and considered him a monster. 

Clint had a new respect for Bruce because somehow, through sheer willpower, Bruce had managed to break Amora's control, seeing himself as shattering the chains in time to stop Hulk from smashing Jan to pieces. 

_Clint_ , though, Clint hadn't been able to to do anything to break the hold the Controller had over him. He didn't see himself wrapped up in chains, like Bruce. Instead, he was in a thick, clear bubble, where he could see and hear everything that the Controller made him do, but hitting the bubble or kicking it did nothing to pop it.

He'd shot Cap, Thor, and T'Challa, the disks embedding themselves and taking them over. Tony's armor had been hit with a special device that the Controller had just for him. Tony was just as compromised as the rest of them because of it. Bobbi had taken care of Jan, drawing her away on some pretext which required her to be full size before Client had gone to town on the others. Clint couldn't hit her with an arrow when she was teeny-tiny without killing her, and the Controller didn't want the Avengers dead. He wanted them to be his own personal lap dogs, especially Tony. 

The Controller had left the campus with them as his escort, as well as Maria Hill and the other compromised S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. They'd had their own parade down to Stark Tower, and only in New York could an outlandish mob like them barely even get fingers pointed at them as they marched, or in the Controller's, Tony's and Thor's cases, flew, down the city blocks.

The one roboid that Hulk hadn't smashed had come along for the fun, too. And the red-headed babe inside of it had taken care of any opposition. She'd just sung them into compliance, including the top staff at Stark Industries and Pepper Potts. They adored the red-head, and no one had objected to being outfitted with their own mind control jewelry. The Controller had been insufferable about how Tony's company, labs, staff, robots, blah, blah, blah were all his now.

They would have more mind disks in a few hours, Tony's labs and factories being put to good use by the Controller. The Controller had decided it would be a gas to do the whole “Lord of the Manor,” thing at the mansion, so they'd all trooped back up Fifth Avenue. They'd even gotten a police escort, once the red-head with the vocal power had sung to them.

The Controller had ordered the minions to wait in the lobby, in the middle of the huge “A” on the black and white tiled floor, and he'd slowly walked around the perimeter of the room, stopping now and then to pick up an expensive vase and eye it or run a hand down the side of one of the marble pillars. 

He ordered Tony to take off his armor, Thor and T'Challa holding onto Tony's arms as he was freed from it, and presumably, the mind control as well. 

Tony glared at him, his hair in disarray, struggling against the hold of his teammates.

“Anthony. Perhaps you'll recognize this quote. 'Revenge should have no bounds.' 

“Oh, God, spare me the melodrama,” Tony shot at the Controller.

“I'm going to appropriate everything you've ever had and occasionally, like now, I'll remove the disk and enjoy the look on your face as you realize that I've made you my slave.” 

Narrowing his eyes, Tony gritted out, “You're going to go down hard, Basil. Just like last time.” 

The Controller flicked a finger towards Tony and Cap stepped next to him. 

“Do the honors, Captain America.” Steve placed a disk on Tony's neck and Tony stopped struggling, looking towards the Controller for instructions.

The Controller announced that he wanted a tour. Also, food. He sent Jan and Bobbi and the red-head to the kitchen to fix him a meal. Clint noticed he didn't specify that the rest of them were to be given anything to eat. He just bet that Jan and Bobbi, stuck in their own bubbles, were fuming.

It would backfire on the asshole, though, unless the red-head had some talent at cooking, because he knew that Bobbi and Jan were fairly hopeless at doing anything much in a kitchen besides working a microwave. And the Controller had ordered them to prepare his favorite foods, and it wasn't frozen pizza or Spagetti-O's. Hell, Clint was a pretty decent cook, and so was Bruce. If the Controller had asked them who could cook and who couldn't, probably it would be them in the kitchen instead. The Controller had made an assumption based on traditional gender roles – Clint could so thank those mandatory trainings when he'd been a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent for the terminology -- so maybe the Controller would be just as sloppy about other assumptions. It... might be a small chink in his armor.

He wanted to go and see Bruce, make sure he was all right, but the Controller didn't order it, and hadn't given Clint leeway in his orders to make his own plans, as long as they fit in with the Controller's agenda.

Clint had acted like such a bastard to Bruce— cold, indifferent, and the worse part was that the Controller had just capitalized upon something Clint wasn't proud of at all. It was pretty clear to Clint that while he really liked Bruce, he still had a ways to go about believing Bruce would be an effective fighter. Hiding, yes. Bruce had evaded capture for long intervals between his past incarcerations. Being a genius scientist, hell, yes. 

Maybe, though, that was the chink Clint was looking for, the assumption that could trip up the Controller. After all, the Controller had accepted Clint's assessment that Bruce as Bruce wasn't dangerous. And maybe, just maybe, Bruce Banner, non-Avenger, would exceed Clint's expectations.

 

_

Bruce

_

 

_Breathe_ , Bruce told himself silently, although there was no chance that Hulk would be coming out. Or even be able to give him any advice. Hulk had been sung to sleep and all of Bruce's shouting at him hadn't gotten him to even twitch.

Bruce's heart was still beating too fast, though, so yeah, _breathe_. He was in a lot of trouble here, hiding in the maintenance access tunnels for the training room. After re-entering the mansion from one of the rooftop access points he'd discovered while playing hide and seek with Clint, he'd rebooted JARVIS, and boy, Tony was not going to be happy to know that Bruce was more than capable of that level of hacking. 

Well, Tony could have a fit about it later, after he was himself again and not a mind-controlled puppet. 

Bruce had a laptop with him, and was in communication with JARVIS, although JARVIS would not appear to be active. Bruce and JARVIS had worked to block communication with Tony's armor, and hadn't that been a trick to pull off. On the Controller's orders, Tony had only basically flicked on the lights for the mansion. Not even voice communication with JARVIS had been approved.

JARVIS and Bruce were working behind a smoke screen, and Bruce needed more time before he was ready to make a move. He'd had to go to ground when the mob had showed up. He'd been counting on it taking a lot longer to take over Stark Industries, and now he was going to have to play mouse and cats to get what he needed. 

Hopefully, nobody would know the mouse was out of his cage. JARVIS was prepared to run a continuous loop of him asleep in Clint's bed, if video surveillance was turned on to check on him. It had been the second thing he'd accomplished once JARVIS was operational, going back to Clint's room and faking that scene. 

The first thing he'd done, though, was send a message out to Vision. He was the only Avenger that Bruce was sure hadn't been compromised. Even the reserve Avengers, like Luke Cage and Spiderman, might have been snared by now. 

Vision, though, wasn't even on the planet. He'd gone out to the Negative Zone, both to do some exploring and to check that Galactus was still happily occupied with munching down infinite amounts of anti-matter for his meals instead of planets. 

It was too risky to use the portal in the Baxter Building to find Vision, in case the Fantastic Four had also been caught by the Controller.

Bruce had come up with another plan, but it had been time consuming, since he couldn't leave a bread crumb trail back to the mansion. His message had been bounced all over the world before he'd sent it to its real destination.

By using the communication stations at the juncture of the two universes, unobtrusively hidden on the Earth side, Bruce hoped that the encrypted SOS he sent to Vision's ship explaining about the Controller's take-over would bring Vision back. 

Bruce had no way of knowing if this Hail Mary pass would work, and if Vision did get the message, when he'd be able to come. He'd told Vision not to message him back, to increase the chances of not getting caught.

Silently, a line of type appeared on the laptop's screen. _Doctor Banner, when you're ready?”_

“Send me location updates, please,” he typed back. JARVIS obliged, and his laptop screen flashed with different videos. Jan and Mockingbird were in the kitchen, and Siryn was using a fire extinguisher on a blackened mess in the oven. Bruce had found her name in a S.H.I.E.L.D. database of superheros and supervillains that Tony had 'borrowed' from the helicarrier. And Siryn was listed as both. Apparently she'd first come under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s eye as a teenaged criminal, but the X-men had straightened her out. Bruce still wasn't sure if she was mind-controlled or had slipped back to her earlier criminal ways. Still, he tended to take anything in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s files with a big grain of salt. _He'd_ been listed as a criminal in their files, after all. 

He had a plan to make sure her sonic abilities couldn't influence him again, but to implement it he needed to get into Tony's lab. And right now, there were about twenty S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and superheroes between him and where he needed to be. 

He picked up the last of the mini holo projectors he'd brought with him and used the tools he taken out of Tony's workshop to patch the projector into the system for the training room. He wasn't an engineer like Tony, but he'd had plenty of practice at fixing things when he'd been on the run. Nobody had needed a physicist's help, but a talented handyman could always find some sort of work. 

He typed “Now, Jarvis,” closed the laptop, slid it into the pouch he'd grabbed from Clint's room, and waited at the access door to make his sprint for the lab.

 

_

Clint

_

 

The Controller wanted to see how the training rooms worked, and he'd picked T'Challa and Cap to show off Tony's ingenious testing facilities.

Watching from a viewing room, the Controller made lots of comments to Tony on how he found Tony's work to be inferior. Meanwhile, Cap used his shield to batter the fighting dummies, and T'Challa demonstrated his own brand of martial arts to take them out. 

The rest of them had to just stand there, waiting on the Controller to order them to do something, anything. This gig as a mind-controlled slave was boring. It sucked hairy monkey balls, Clint thought moodily, encased in his bubble. 

Suddenly, Vision appeared in the training room, and a red light beamed from his forehead, barely missing the Controller. He shot again, but the Controller dodged him. 

“Avengers! Take down Vision,” bellowed the Controller. The part of Clint that was mind-controlled gladly followed the order, relieved to be doing something for his master again. Clint-in-a-bubble yelled in frustration, and kicked at the clear barrier, pounded it with his fists. He hated being made to hurt his teammates. 

Vision changed density and floated right up through the ceiling. The mob of minions, Clint included, ran from the training area in hot pursuit of the last free Avenger. 

 

_

Bruce

_

 

Bruce quietly opened the door to Tony's lab. His goal here was to get in, fabricate enough sonic wave absorbing material to make ear plugs, and get out. Right now the Controller was tracking down Vision, Hopefully, Vision's ability to float through walls and ceilings was going to keep Mr. Basil Sandhurst busy sending his press-ganged henchmen after Vision and far away from Bruce.

Bruce located the material he needed and double checked the settings on the machine. He had to adapt his project, transform the material so that besides the range of regular sound, Siryn's mind controlling sonic frequencies would be totally captured within the molecular structure of the fabric. Another tricky part would be that the material could only absorb so much energy before it would need to discharge it, altering from sound to light in a beautiful display of colors. If his ears started glowing with rainbow hues it would attract attention.

Bruce had worked on the concept after hearing Jan talk about attending one of Dazzler's concerts. The public thought the colorful light displays the singer used were because of ground breaking tech, but Dazzler could transform sound to color naturally, although that information wasn't common knowledge. 

Bruce liked Jan a lot, and she'd been so kind to him when he'd been sick. Designing clothes was a hobby of hers, and he thought he could figure out the physics of the sound to color transformation and apply it to fabric. She could make some interesting outfits with it, he'd thought. 

It had been a puzzle that had been mildly interesting and it had given him something to do when he'd been hiding from Clint. Working out the equations and structure needed to alter fabric that would imitate Dazzler's ability had been doable with just JARVIS and a laptop. To do his gamma research, he really needed access to his lab in the cabin, or to use Tony's equipment. Clint regularly checked Tony's labs and workshops to see if Bruce had stashed himself in there, so those places had been off-limits.

Bruce placed the small pieces of soft cloth within the chamber and turned on the machine. He would make several sets, but it was unlikely any of the others would be freed enough to use them. 

His next step, after he'd used the cloth to protect his ears, was to go to the armory and get the weapons he was going to need to adapt in Tony's workshop. Luckily, both of his next stops were on the basement levels, too, and with everybody chasing Vision, he thought he actually had a shot at making this work.

 

* * *

_

Clint

_

Vision led them all on a merry chase around the mansion. An uncoordinated, tripping over each other chase, until the Controller wised up and ordered the rest of them to follow Captain America's orders. 

Clint wondered if Cap was doing any better at resisting being mind-controlled than he was. Of all the Avengers, Cap probably had the best chance at it because Steven Rogers was the most principled man he'd ever met. Forcing Captain America to go against what he thought was right was bound to create a war in that star-spangled head of his.

Even under Cap's capable direction, they weren't able to pin down Vision. Clint, stuck as he was in that damn bubble, was rooting so hard for the guy to beat the Controller. 

But after a while things started to fall into a pattern. Vision would be spotted somewhere in the mansion; Cap would send some of them this way and some of them that way to cut him off. Vision would fire at them, miss, and disappear again into the walls or ceiling.

After that first time, though, he had not been spotted back on the basement levels where the assembly room, the labs and workshops, and the armory were located. 

Clint just hoped that the Controller hadn't caught on yet, or wanted to know his opinion of the situation, because he would spill the beans, he knew he would, if his master asked him the right question.

Clint had never seen Vision miss at what he aimed at before. So, okay, there was always a first time, and while the guy wasn't exactly human, he was capable of making mistakes as much as any flesh and blood person.

But not like this. Not every time. Vision was keeping them all occupied trying to stop him, while he wasn't even trying to hurt them. And, sure, he could appreciate Vision _not_ frying his mind-controlled ass, but why not shoot at the Controller? 

Clint had figured it out. Vision was working with somebody, keeping attention away from whatever was going on down in the basement levels. Whoever it was, Clint was cheering them on.

* * *

Unfortunately, the Controller, as Tony had told them, was intelligent. He, too, figured out that Vision was playing them, and ordered Maria Hill to take the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and do a sweep of the three basement levels.

The Controller steepled his fingers, relaxed in the large recliner. “There _is_ one person not under my control in this cottage. Anthony, my lad, have your AI bring up video footage on Doctor Banner.”

Tony walked slowly to the wall interface with JARVIS and punched in his security code, and bent down for the retinal scan. Clint wondered if Tony was stalling, trying to fight against the Controller, but if so, Tony was still too much under his thumb. With a flick of his hands, he brought up the video of Clint's room. The video hung in the air, large enough for all of them to see. 

Bruce was on his side, still asleep and breathing slowly, his free hand curled up by his face. The blanket had slid down, revealing one bare shoulder, and Clint saw that the hickey on his neck hadn't faded yet, as part of it was visible despite the gamma dampener collar.

Seeing Bruce still helplessly confined to Clint's bed, he kissed goodbye the irrational hope he'd had that Bruce would somehow have been able to give them a hand. It wasn't fair to expect that of him. He was a sweetheart and brilliant, but he wasn't going to be able to fight against the Controller. 

The Controller said, “It's hard to believe that such a peaceful looking man harbors the Hulk. T'Challa and Thor, you both will remain here, and dispose of anyone foolish enough to attack me. Hawkeye and Captain America, do a search of the ground and upstairs floors and roof. Disable and bring me our mystery foe, if found. Oh, and bring Doctor Banner with you, when you report back to me. Anthony, kneel by my feet.” 

Clint fell in behind Cap, and together they started to do a room to room search on the ground floor, with its large stained glass windows and ornate crown molding. If Clint dragged his feet, well, he was just following the pace Cap was setting.

 

_

Bruce

_

Bruce's laptop screen started flashing, JARVIS' way of getting his attention. He read the words and typed a message back to direct the hologram of Vision to show up on the basement levels as soon as Bruce had gone up to the roof. Aside from Tony, Bruce wasn't sure the other Avengers even knew about the behind-the-walls maintenance areas, but there would be more scrutiny now during the search for Vision's accomplice. Maria Hill would turn Tony's workshops, labs, and the armory upside down, looking for Vision's partner. She was Nick Fury's second-in-command and wouldn't take things at face value. She might discover the hidden parts of the basement levels.

The upper floors didn't have those hidden features as much, although there was a way to get up to the roof, a servant's small hidden stairwell. He'd used it lots of times over the last two months, slipping past Clint on one of his “find Banner and confuse him” kicks.

According to JARVIS, Bruce wouldn't be able to get into position to take down the Controller before he would be discovered missing from Clint's room.

He had to go back. 

Betting that he didn't rate two Avengers escorting him to the Controller, he was going to have to adapt his crazy plan. The simulations he'd run on the tech he'd altered from Tony's designs and from the scans JARVIS had done of the mind control disks indicated a 97% percent chance of success. 

At least they hadn't figured out yet that Vision wasn't actually Vision. When Bruce had explained what he needed, JARVIS had taken over writing the program that would allow a hologram of Vision, compiled from the archives, to be projected wherever Bruce could hide the holo-emitters. The hologram's imitation microwave beam from Vision's forehead couldn't be allowed to actually hit a target, or the deception would have been short-lived when nothing happened. 

Well, the Controller hadn't caught on to the hologram part of the con job, but he had realized Vision was a distraction. Bruce cocked his head, hearing voices coming down the hallway. He hurriedly packed up everything he needed and made sure there was nothing out of place.

He went to the hidden control on a back wall, and quietly opened the access hatch. Time to cut and run, and hope that his luck would hold.


	7. Chapter 7

_Clint_

Cap's face was set in grim lines, and while he obeyed the Controller's command to search the upper floors, he barely glanced in each room. Clint was still under orders to _take_ orders from Captain America, so he did what Cap did, and inside his bubble he was giving Cap the pep talk of his life.

God, if Steve could break the Controller's hold, if Vision would quit dicking around and blast that ego-maniac while Cap boomeranged him with his shield, and their unknown ally did whatever he or she was trying to do, they could put the asshole down. Maybe. If the Controller didn't just order the rest of them to attack Cap and company, and the red-head kept her mouth shut.

But as they cleared the ground floor, and then the second floor, Cap didn't seem to have made any more progress, except Clint suspected he was getting a giant headache. Once more, for like, the millionth time, Clint kicked and pushed against the damn bubble. 

Nothing.

The top floor had been half cleared, when they came to Clint's room. Clint unlocked the door and swung the door open quietly. Bruce was turned towards the wall, still asleep.

“Barton, I'll finish checking this floor. You wake him up.”

Clint nodded, and closed the door. The part of him that was really him wanted to get the handcuffs off Bruce and get him safely out of here. Instead, Bruce would get to deal with who the Controller wanted him to see: a cold unfeeling bastard. He knew that Bruce had hated how Clint had touched him when he'd flown him to the mansion. He'd flinched from the contact, and when – not if, when – they got out of this mess he'd try to make it up to him. 

He turned on the light, and barked out, “Wake up, Banner. The Controller wants to see you.” He stood over the bed and pulled down the blanket, saw the broken glass, the cuts on Bruce's hand, blood spatter on the sheet. The cuts didn't look accidental. Evidently, Bruce had tried to get out of the handcuffs and failed. He took out the handcuff key and freed him. Bruce's arm dropped to the bed, limp, on the pillow. He hadn't moved, and Clint put his hand on Bruce's back and shoved him lightly.

Bruce was breathing, but he didn't show any signs of waking up, and Clint flashed back to when Bruce had been in that coma. 

He rolled Bruce over so that he was on his back. Still no movement, so he sat down next to him and put two fingers on Bruce's neck to check his pulse, bending over to watch how he was breathing.

Bruce yawned then and stretched. Clint started to straighten up, but then Bruce put his arms around Clint's neck and pulled him down for a kiss. 

Well, even the cold bastard wouldn't turn down a little making out. Banner must still be mostly asleep and hadn't remembered what had happened. Clint kissed him, and it seemed to him that the more effort he put into it the thinner the bubble around the real him became. 

Bruce sleepily tugged Clint's hood down and ran a hand through Clint's hair, which Jesus, felt so good. Clint felt him shift in the bed, opening his legs wide, inviting Clint to climb on top of him. Clint was a polite kind of guy, he wasn't going to turn _that_ down. He knew that the Controller had dropped in to monitor what was going on, alerted, no doubt, by changes in Clint's mind. The prick was amused and gave his go ahead, but also a time limit. Clint had five minutes to grope Doctor Banner, no more. 

What was that kid's game where you ducked in a closet to make out? Seven Minutes in Heaven? Well, he'd take Five Minutes in Heaven before he had to be the Controller's clown again. Bruce's mouth was soft, and the Controller wanted Clint to be like a fucking pirate and just plunder the hell out of that treasure. That was worrisome, that the Controller was a bit of a voyeur. Luckily, Clint felt the Controller's interest drop back to merely being in the background, as other things probably needed his attention. Who knew when Clint would get a chance to touch Bruce again. Right now, Bruce wanted this, and Clint hated how that would change when he actually woke up and remembered he was a prisoner, Hulk trapped within him.

Bruce tugged on Clint's hair with one hand, and Clint looked down into eyes that were wide awake now. Bruce licked his lips and tilted his head up, and damn, that was a challenge in his beautiful eyes. 

Clint never could turn down a challenge. He kissed the ever-lovin' fuck out of Doctor Bruce Banner, attention scattered as he enjoyed the feel of Bruce's skin, those shy lips that he was leading down the path to sin, the heavy feel of arousal, how his uniform felt so tight now, the weight of his quiver across his back.

He was aware, in a peripheral kind of way, that Bruce was moving a hand back up to Clint's neck. He didn't care. Clint had scooted down so that he could get his mouth on Bruce's left nipple and his hand on the other one. He wanted to hear that soft startled sound fly out of Bruce's mouth again, and, and, he was so close now to ripping through the bubble. 

And then Bruce was pushing something over the mind control disk on his neck, and he was through, the bubble was gone.

“JARVIS?” Bruce sounded a little drunk. 

“Scanning, Doctor Banner. I took the liberty of updating the video loop. Should the Controller check the feed, he will see the activities of a few moments ago. And, the results are positive.”

Bruce relaxed against the pillow and smiled at Clint. He looked... satisfied. And Clint didn't think it was because of what the two of them had been doing till thirty seconds ago.

“Bruce, what the fuck did you do?”

“You're you again.” 

“But the Controller's gonna know. He'll send that red-haired babe up here. Or he'll send Cap, although Cap--” 

Bruce put a finger on Clint's lips. “JARVIS, on my signal begin recording again.”

“Hey, I'm sor--”

“Clint, I think we're okay and I'll tell you everything, but we've got to make this look like we're still, mmm, you know.”

Clint obliged him, putting his ear close to Bruce's lips, but because he felt like it, he still palmed Bruce's right nipple. 

Bruce shivered and whispered, “I want a... ah, raincheck. JARVIS, go ahead until we aren't, ah, aren't, um...” 

Clint kept working that hard as a rock nipple and Bruce made a sound that Clint was positive he wasn't faking for JARVIS' recording. 

“Ahhhh, you've got to stop that or I can't think straight,” Bruce whispered, sounding totally frustrated. 

Clint kissed the side of his mouth lightly in acknowledgment, and stopped tormenting him. 

Bruce kept whispering. “Okay, I've adapted the disk so that while you'll still receive commands, you don't have to follow them. The Controller will be getting compliance vibes from you; he's not going to know you're free.”

“Nifty. Got any more like the one on my neck?”

“I only had time to make one.”

“Ah.”

“I've made special arrowheads from what Tony used the last time to stop the Controller. I've had to adapt them, because of the upgrades in the Controller's armor, but I'm gambling that three out of the four negator packs will be in the right range to stop the mind control.”

“How?” Clint asked softly, and licked Bruce's ear.

“Ah... what? Tell you later, the science would take too long to explain. I was going to use one of your bows and shoot him with the adapted arrows, but this is better.”

“Bow and arrows? Sounds like my job.”

“My thoughts exactly. You take them, get in position – I was going to go to the roof and down a maintenance stairwell, but you're a lot more experienced at this.”

“I'll swing down from the roof.”

“Can you get Cap to take me down to the Controller?”

“Yeah. I'll volunteer to check out the roof; it's on the agenda anyway.” Clint said, a little gobsmacked that Bruce had obviously gotten out of handcuffs, out of the room, invented some shit, and snuck back in here and recuffed himself. Oh, and then he'd seduced Clint so he could stick that anti-mind control gizmo on him. Hell, he'd done as good a job on the seduction thing as Natasha could have done. 

Bruce Banner. Hidden depths.

“So, I made some ear plugs so Siryn can't compel us to obey her or the Controller. They're special.”

Bruce wiggled until he was able to reach into his pocket and draw out two small wads of cloth, and gave them to Clint. “I'll give you time to get into place, but don't get too close. The Controller can use his suit and helmet to make people do what he wants if they're too close to him, even without the disks.”

“What about you? Controller will want you up close and personal.” 

“It won't matter if that happens to me once I get you your distraction.”

“Siryn. She the red-head?”

“Yes. She's got sonic mind control powers. Okay, I hope you've still got my tech shield bracelet and stingers.”

“Yep.”

“Let me up. I need one of your sweatshirts, something that'll be big on me so nobody will notice my wrists.”

Clint rolled off Bruce and dug in his pocket, tossed him the bracelet and the stingers. He went to the closet and came back with an old S.H.I.E.L.D. sweatshirt, and Bruce pulled it on. It was fairly big on Clint so it hung on Bruce. He put on the bracelet and stingers; the sleeves covered them up nicely.

“Okay, what's the plan with Vision?” Clint asked while Bruce opened a drawer and pulled out a handful of arrowheads.

Bruce handed them to him, and he added them to his quiver. Bruce said, “Hopefully, he's on his way back from the Negative Zone since I sent him a message. Thanks to JARVIS, everybody's been chasing a hologram around the mansion.”

JARVIS added, “Doctor Banner had me complete his program and he installed all the holo-emitters. I do believe credit needs to be given where it's due, sir.”

Clint grabbed Bruce and pulled him close. “God damn, you're sexy when you're being a genius. Pucker up, honey.” 

He kissed Bruce, cashing in his rain check from this morning. But Bruce was the one who took it a step past where they'd stopped earlier today.

Finally, Bruce pulled away from him, panting a little. “That was for luck. Handcuff me again, but loosely this time and give me the key.”

Clint put in his earplugs. “Will we able to hear?”

“Not as well, but well enough. Mostly, I've made it so it will block the frequency for Siryn's sonic power.” Bruce said. 

Clint could hear Bruce okay. Maybe just a little muffled.

Clint secured Bruce's wrists behind his back, with the key tucked into his shield bracelet. 

“I didn't contact Richards or Xavier. I'm not sure who's been compromised, besides S.H.I.E.L.D,” Bruce said.

“I'm not sure, either.”

Bruce looked guilty all of a sudden. “I guess I should have called the Army, but I was afraid they'd just come and take me, even if they believed me. JARVIS will contact them, if this doesn't work.”

Bruce looked down after he said that, and Clint got it, that Bruce thought he'd been selfish by not allowing himself to be sacrificed.

“Hey, you don't need to throw yourself under that bus, Bruce. At least not yet. C'mon, let's go kick the Controller's ass.” 

He turned Bruce so he was looking into his eyes. “And you use that shield, understand, after you start the distraction. You stay safe. Vision's hologram can come in then and dive bomb the Controller, right, Jarvis?”

“Yes, Master Barton.”

He squeezed Bruce's arm, opened the door, and pushed Bruce out into the hallway.

* * *

Cap just nodded when Clint said he'd check out the roof. His eyes looked strained, and he took Bruce by the arm and led him toward the elevator without saying a word.

Clint hurried to the roof, and rappelled down the outside wall until he was in position next to a window that gave him an excellent view of the Controller and his entourage. As far as the Controller knew, Clint was still on the roof diligently searching for Vision's accomplice. 

It would be a little tricky getting the glass out of the way so he could quietly shoot the retooled negator pack into the Controller's armor. A laser might catch the attention of someone below, so Clint opted to use a vibranium arrowhead to cut a large square out of Tony's expensive stained glass window, and kept it in place with suction cups on the edges. He slid it down enough so that he could clearly hear the Controller, even wearing the adapted earplugs. 

Clint could see that Cap and Bruce were in the room now, and even though Cap was mind-controlled he was gentle with Bruce, holding his elbow so he wouldn't stumble. The Controller couldn't force him to treat Bruce like crap unless it was a direct order.

In Clint's case, his own belief that Bruce wasn't an Avenger had bled through his dealings with Bruce. Then again, Cap had always respected Bruce and Hulk, unlike Clint's tangled feelings. He might not underestimate Bruce, though, like Clint had. He might be on guard that Bruce would try something. 

Clint, in position on the outside wall and watching through the window, could hear the voices in the room below. They were muffled, but still audible. He could see that Siryn was standing by the Controller. Apparently he had given up on getting an edible meal out of Jan's, Siryn's, and Bobbi's efforts. 

Basil Sandhurst was a mind-controller, not a miracle worker.

“Doctor Banner, tell me of your latest research. I have, of course, read your earlier papers before you took up the role of a fugitive. Absolutely brilliant, of course. I will admit to being curious. Are you still capable of the same level of genius now, or has becoming the Hulk drained you of your intelligence? The Hulk is not known for his... brains.”

Bruce didn't say anything, but Cap stepped closer to him, looking to Clint like he was ready to step in front of Bruce, protect him from the Controller. 

That wasn't good. Cap was too close; he would take Bruce down as soon as he made the slightest move with his bracelets and shield.

“Come now, I've asked you a question. I don't intend to let a barefooted ragamuffin defy me. Now tell me what I want to know or I'll have my beautiful Siryn sing the answer out of you.”

Bruce shrugged and stepped a little to the side, away from Cap. “I made the gamma poisoning antidote to stop the Leader. That's about it.”

“Is that so. Anthony, what is your opinion of Doctor Banner's current abilities?” The Controller turned to where Tony was still kneeling next to him, ran his hand through Tony's hair.

“He's so smart that he leaves everybody except me and Reed Richards behind. But he's not interested in using the facilities here to do research. He's got a lab in a little cabin up north, but he's even lost interest in that. He's not been there in a long time. He and I did some work on how his gamma radiation changed his bio-electricity when using Wasp's old stingers, and we had fun. I was hoping that he'd work with me more, but I don't want to push him. He's been really sick, you know. And I don't want him to think he has to sing for his supper around here. But, Bruce Banner is still brilliant, to answer your question.”

“Excellent, Anthony. Well, I think you'll get your wish, my boy. Doctor Banner will be your new lab partner. The two of you will create whatever I desire.”

The Controller crooked a finger at Bruce. “Come closer, Doctor Banner. I think I'd like you to kneel on my other side, to be a matched pair with my Anthony. I must see about acquiring Reed Richards also.”

Bruce lowered his eyes, and moved slowly to the Controller's side, Siryn shifting so that he could kneel down. He did so, awkwardly.

The Controller ruffled Bruce's hair and Clint felt an impulse to shoot the guy right now, to hell with waiting for the diversion. 

Bruce didn't say anything, but Clint could see him flinching from the contact. 

“Now, none of that, Doctor Banner. A good pet is happy when his master rewards him with a pat on the head. Isn't that right, Anthony?”

“Yes, Master.” 

The Controller was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Doctor Banner, Assistant Director Hill reports that the lower levels are not harboring Vision or Vision's accomplice. Captain America and Hawkeye swept the upper floors to no avail, and Hawkeye is currently on the roof searching for whoever Vision was protecting. He reports no sign of our shadowy foe.” 

He looked at Bruce speculatively and tilted Bruce's chin up. “I do believe in rewarding my slaves. Now, tell me the truth, and I shall let you and Hawkeye finish what you began upstairs. Perhaps even later tonight. Who is the Vision's accomplice?”

Bruce shook his head. “I don't know. I was locked in Clint's room.”

The Controller touched his helmet and Bruce started to shake. “I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. Please, please, I don't know.”

“Hmm. I had to be sure, dear boy.” He ruffled Bruce's hair again, while Bruce lowered his eyes and made soft half-sobbing noises.

“Very well, perhaps the accomplice has escaped. Captain America, set up regular patrols for inside the mansion and on the grounds. Oh, and Falcon will be joining us. He's on, well, my side. I'm sending him to patrol the grounds.”

_Ah, nuts,_ thought Clint. Just what he needed, a mind-controlled superhero who could fly and who would see him hanging from the roof when he showed up.

Bruce must have had similar thoughts, because he exploded into action, handcuff hanging off one hand, both arms extended, shooting bolts of green bio-energy at Siryn and the Controller. Then he somersaulted forward and came up on his feet, spinning around and shooting off more bolts. Cap reached for him, but very slowly, and Bruce easily ducked under his arm and spun out of his reach, shooting off bio-energy blasts towards both Siryn and the Controller again.

The Controller roared, “Siryn, sing to him.”

And Clint could hear her, as he carefully took out the glass he'd cut and stuck it against the side of the building, held in place with his putty arrows.

He could hear her, and she sounded lovely, but she wasn't affecting him. And Bruce was still fighting, twisting, turning, shooting off those flashes. The ear plugs he and Bruce were wearing were stopping her extra-special sonic waves. 

Bruce was supposed to be under his tech shield by now, staying safe. But he just kept fighting and keeping the whole room in an uproar.

Clint readied his bow with the first special arrow and let it fly. Silently it flew down into the room, and landed on the back of the Controller's armor, where it stuck like gum on a shoe. 

The hologram of Vision showed up, firing at the Controller, adding to the chaos.

The Controller straightened in reflex, but he was still sending out orders, now broadcast so that everybody was hearing them. He still thought Clint was mind-controlled, one of his slaves. God damn, Bruce was a fucking genius; his plan and his tech was working. Well, mostly.

Clint knew there was a chance that not all of the negator packs would work, and this first one was a dud. As he was getting his next arrow ready, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. A red and white uniformed dark-skinned man was gliding towards him.

Great. It was Falcon. And now Bruce was fighting for his life downstairs, because the Controller had just ordered all the Avengers to take him down. Wasp shot at him with her stingers, and he used his tech shield to bounce them away. T'Challa sprang towards Bruce, and Bruce, with those long legs of his, jumped and barely missed T'Challa's claws ripping him. Bruce reformatted the shield into a power lance as he was leaping, and once again shot at the Controller, causing the would-be dictator to curse with displeasure.

But Bruce landed wrong on his feet and one of his ankles twisted as he fell to the ground. He cried out in pain, and formatted the shield so that it covered him with its energy barrier. 

The Controller snarled out an angry sound, sounding nothing like his fake cultured voice. 

“Thor, hammer him!” 

Clint shot the second negator pack and as it attached itself to the Controller's armor, a satisfying web of energy bolts covered the exo-skeleton. But it didn't take the Controller down.

Then Clint whirled, readying another arrow to deal with Falcon, who was bearing down on him, a grappling line shooting towards Clint to tangle him up. Clint swung through the hole in the window, and shot a net arrow at Falcon when he followed him through. He hoped Falcon wouldn't get hurt, as the net surrounded the man and his wings and he plummeted to the floor. 

Clint had been a scrapper, a circus kid who'd had to fight his way out of one scrape or another, a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, and an Avenger. He knew what his priority was here. He had to stop the Controller first, but when Thor rose up in the air and then let his hammer slam down on top of Bruce's tech shield, it was all he could do to keep to his mission parameters and fire another negator pack at the Controller. Once again, the energy web crackled as it spread over the Controller's armor.

And Bruce's shield wavered. Thor, eyes blank, still floating above Bruce, who was crouched down on the floor, wound up his hammer again. Once more he slammed it down on Bruce's shield.

Clint fired his fourth arrow at the Controller and this time a much brighter energy web spread, and the Controller spasmed in his exo-skeleton. But Bruce's shield sparked and disappeared, and Thor was still caught within the Controller's web, and Clint could see that this time the negator pack was going to stop the Controller, but not soon enough, Jesus, not soon enough, because Thor brought down his hammer towards Bruce's unprotected head.

Only to have Cap's shield spin and intercept the arc of the hammer's path. The vibrations, the sound of Mjolnir hitting Cap's pure vibranium shield, sent out a shock wave that bowled over everyone standing. 

Clint landed on the floor, released himself from the rappelling line. He took in the scene. Tony had taken off the Controller's helmet, and T'Challa and Janet were securing the nut-job. Janet, teeny-tiny, was firing her stingers at him, keeping his armor sparking.

Thor had landed, and he and Cap were bent over Bruce. Clint ran to them, pushed them aside.

Bruce lay in a crumpled heap.

Cap grabbed Clint's arm. “I checked his pulse and breathing. He's not in danger.”

“Bruce, you okay?” Bruce wasn't moving at all, not even feebly.

Cap said, “I think he's been knocked out by the sound of Thor's hammer hitting my shield. Can you carry him to a bed?”

“Yeah, I'll take him to Hulk's room.” Clint knelt next to Bruce.

“We'll get an ambulance out here to check him out. I think he's twisted his ankle, so if he wakes up don't let him put weight on it.”

Maria Hill strode into the room, a good two dozen agents following her.

“Captain America, report.”

Clint didn't pay any more attention to the Controller being taken into custody by S.H.I.E.L.D., or Avengers and agents pulling the mind control disks from their skin. 

He picked up Bruce and walked past Hill, who gave him another one of her sharp glances, and took him to Hulk's room.

He laid Bruce down, remembering carrying him to this huge bed when Bruce had collapsed months ago. Bruce was pale, his freckles once again standing out against his skin. Clint had an unwelcome memory of Bruce looking the same way when he was in that coma. 

JARVIS informed him that an ambulance was on the way. Clint got a wet washrag and used it to wipe the sweat off Bruce's face, but Bruce didn't wake up. 

Clint kissed him on the forehead.

“You're going to be all right, Bruce. You did really good today. Thanks to you, the Controller's out of business. Now wake up, okay, honey?”

Someone cleared their throat at the doorway. Maria Hill was standing there.

“Captain America said you could fill in the blanks, Hawkeye. Report. And what's wrong with Banner? Did he faint?”

“No, Assistant Director Hill. No, he didn't _faint_. He got hurt during the fight, okay? And if it wasn't for Bruce Banner, you'd still be the Controller's pet monkey; all of us would be, so have a little respect towards him. He's an Avenger, after all.”

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

_Bruce_

“ngghh...”

“Bruce? Hey, I think he's waking up.” Bruce's head was pounding and his ears were ringing. He didn't want to wake up. He wanted whoever was hitting the anvil inside his head to just stop. 

“Doctor Banner? If you can understand this, I'm going to shine a light in your eyes.” He felt his eyelid lifted and he blinked against the bright beam.

He lifted an arm to try to stop them but it was caught by a roughly calloused hand. “Bruce.” That was Clint's voice. Must be Clint's hand. “Doc, they've got to check you out. Open your eyes. The Controller is in custody, we're off the clock.” Bruce felt the hammer hit that anvil three more times and he groaned. “C'mon, C'mon, Bruce. Open your eyes right now.”

“You can't tell me what to do,” he croaked out, grumpy. He did what Clint asked, though. 

He blinked several times, and made a face when an EMT or medic type person shone the light in his eyes again and then made him track the penlight.

“What happened to me?” The last thing he remembered was using the tech shield to protect himself from Thor's hammer and then...

“Oh, shit.”

“Exactly,” Clint said. Bruce looked up at him, and Clint was grinning.

“Cap broke the Controller's mind control in time to save your ass. Thor's hammer hit his shield instead of your head.”

Bruce put his hands over his ears, replaying the last vague memory he had of the fight. 

“Yeaah. You were knocked out from the sound. Everybody on the ground went down like bowling pins and it even swung me around on the rappelling line. I was still up in the air, nailing the Controller with those negator packs. Thor's really sorry, by the way. He swears on Odin's helm that he owes you a boon.”

Bruce looked around. Huh. He was on a quinjet. He was really tired, and apparently not thinking very well, or he'd have noticed he wasn't on the ground a lot sooner.

Ah, hell, he probably had a concussion. He was lucky to be alive, though.

“We're going to the helicarrier to get that collar off you. And you've been out for a while. I think there's a CAT scan in your future.” Clint sounded tired, but happy. “And how's Hulk? I bet he's pissed off that he couldn't come out and smash the Controller himself.” 

Bruce tried again to prod Hulk awake. “He's asleep. Really, really asleep from what Siryn did. He's not hurt though. Maybe when the collar comes off he'll wake up. Or maybe Siryn can wake him up. Is she back at the mansion, still?”

“Nah, she's coming with us to the helicarrier, too. She's not feeling good.”

There was a round of questions from the EMT, which boiled down to yes, he was oriented to time, person, and place, he had a bad headache, his ears were ringing, and his thumb and splinted right ankle hurt. The medic left him alone then. Clint helped him sit up on the gurney and handed him a water bottle. Bruce could see Maria Hill talking to Siryn, who was lying down on another gurney. Up front, Bobbi Morse was piloting and Jan was in the co-pilots seat. A man, a medic, was checking Siryn's IV drip. Bruce watched them, worried that he'd hurt her when he'd hit her with the bio-electric bolts. Clint left him, saying he'd be right back. Bruce watched him as he went to the cockpit area and talked to Jan and Bobbi. 

He remembered the bet that Hulk had made him take. He watched Bobbi and Clint talking, but he couldn't make out what they were saying. It didn't look like they were flirting with each other, though, but he felt disgruntled that Clint even wanted to talk to her. He gave himself a lecture about that. He had no claim on Clint. 

“Hello,” said a pretty, black-haired medic. He hadn't noticed her coming up next to his gurney. She smiled at him and asked him the standard stuff again – his name, the date, made him count backwards by sevens from a hundred, the name of the president, and when Clint returned she pointed and asked if he knew the fellow in the purple outfit.

Clint gave him that wicked grin of his and said, “You'd better get it right, Doc. All of it.” 

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Clinton Francis Barton. Known as Hawkeye, and he's an Avenger. Oh, and he's a smartass.”

She stuck a thermometer in his mouth and wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his bicep. Clint tsk'ed at him. “Better to be a smartass than a dumbass. _You_ forgot to mention that I'm your boyfriend.”

The medic looked from Clint to Bruce. “If he's right about that, nod your head, Doctor Banner.”

Bruce was feeling rotten. As a matter of fact, he was feeling pretty much like Hulk would be feeling, if he was the one sitting on this gurney with a pounding headache and listening to Cupid, er, Clint, being goofy. In a word, cranky.

But... he and Clint hadn't had a chance to talk about what would happen now that they'd slept together. Did he want to be with Clint? Well, yes. He'd just never thought it would really happen. Clint wasn't one for a lot of hearts and flowers type of talking. But he'd just announced that he was Bruce's boyfriend, where anybody on the jet could have overheard him. Maria Hill certainly had, from the way she was staring at him and Clint.

He looked Clint in the eye, trying to communicate as well as he could with a thermometer stuck in his mouth that he was taking this seriously. 

He nodded his head, and Clint grabbed his hand and squeezed it hard.

“Doc, how would you like to go fishing? After you're feeling better, that is. We haven't been back to your cabin for a while.”

The EMT took away the thermometer, and Bruce looked dubiously at Clint. He thought it was a little odd that Clint would ask about the cabin right now. 

“Did Hulk talk to you about me going back there? Because I don't want to impose on you.”

“Nope, he didn't. I bet he'd like to go along though, and let off some steam. He doesn't get a chance to get out much in town. And I asked because I know you're a nature loving hippie, and the weather's better now for campfires and stuff and... wait. What do you mean, you don't want to impose on me?” Clint crossed his arms over his chest. “And just me? Or not imposing on the rest of the team?”

“Um.” Clint had that persistent look in his eyes. He knew Clint wasn't going to let what Bruce had just said go. 

He made an effort to sound reasonable and not petulant. “Well, the team is busy being Avengers and when you guys aren't, I don't want to take up your time with doing stuff with me, when you could be doing something you guys want to do.” He cringed a little after he said it, because he thought he did sound more on the petulant side than the reasonable side.

“I always take you to your cabin, or out on one of your nature binges.”

Bruce felt his crankiness take over, because _Clint was missing the point!_

He scowled at Clint. “Well, back then I thought it was sort of tit for tat, you know, since I thought I was an Avenger. I know better now, is all. Not asking anymore for you guys to go with me to do things was my way of helping contribute to the team. Of course, if the team would let me go off by myself, that would work for all of us, but for some reason, you guys don't trust me to be on my own. Either you think I need someone to watch me in case I get into trouble, or to watch Hulk, so that he doesn't cause trouble.”

Clint stepped a lot closer to him and wrapped his arms around Bruce, and Bruce let his head fall against Clint's chest. God, his head hurt.

Clint said softly, “What if I want to spend some time with my boyfriend doing something he likes to do? Would that work?”

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have sounded off like--”

“And before you tell me about what a jerk I was about it before; I know. It wasn't that I hated going fishing with you, not exactly.”

Bruce made a disbelieving sound, but he kept his head right where it was.

Clint said, “It was that you were wrapping all that serenity around yourself and hiding in it. I don't like it when you're hiding like that, Bruce. I want to see your real reactions to things, to _me_. Don't be the fake Zen master with me, okay?”

“I'm not any kind of a Zen master.”

Clint tightened his arms around Bruce. “I promise I'll have a better attitude when we're in the boat this time. I'll read or play video games or just watch you and think about how I'm going to touch you later so that you scream the cabin down.”

“I'm not a scream--”

“Oh, yes you are, honey. I like hearing you lose it. But if you want me to put a hand over your mouth, and hold you down when you come, we can do that, too.”

“Oh, God.” Bruce kept his forehead resting against Clint's chest. He could feel the blush racing across his face, and Clint would just be so smug if he saw it. Bruce decided that he needed to do some research on Clint Barton, on what might make him blush. He was a scientist; he could formulate some theories, set up some experiments. It would be fun. 

Clint said, “You were right, though. Tony had said we'd take responsibility for Hulk and  
the team didn't want you to be unprotected – we all knew Ross was nuts about catching you.”

Bruce took a deep breath, inhaled the comforting scent that said Clint to him. “Ross is more than nuts about capturing me.” 

“We know, Bruce. He's your own personal Captain Ahab. So yeah, we wanted somebody to stay with you, but I was the one who asked to be your bodyguard.”

“You did? I thought you just always got the short end of the stick about it.”

Clint chuckled. “I'd have kicked up a fuss about it if that had been true. No, I wanted to be with you. I just didn't get why it was so important to me back then. Doctor Strange confronted me about what I was feeling and then it all started making sense to me, why I had to keep pushing at you and why I couldn't leave you alone.”

Bruce raised his head so he could see Clint's eyes. “Well, it doesn't make sense to me. I thought you didn't like me, just Hulk. That you resented me for taking a day away from Hulk each month and for having to babysit me.”

“Nah. It's... it's hard to explain. Give me a minute here.”

Bruce closed his eyes while Clint tried to figure out what to say. He wanted some aspirin, but he knew the EMTs wouldn't give him anything until he'd been evaluated. He wondered how long it would be until they arrived at the helicarrier.

“Okay,” said Clint, and Bruce opened his eyes again. “When I was little, my mother used to make stuff with beads, and she would sort them into little piles on this plate. Each pile was the same color and shape and they didn't touch the other piles. And if she left that plate down where I could reach it, I'd take a finger and I'd push one pile into another, and I'd make swirls, and the colors and shapes would be mixed and it would be beautiful.”

He tightened his arms around Bruce, holding him a little more snugly against his chest. “When I met you, and you snarked at me, I knew you were being real. But afterwards, whenever Hulk let you out, you were like those separate piles of beads. Nice enough, but boring by themselves, kind of static, isolated. You wouldn't let yourself express emotions, unless I pushed you into it. Most of the time, you resisted doing that, but it just made me want to see you really being you. Not fragmented, but with all your emotions pushed together, and you calling me on my bullshit, and laughing again. God, I want to hear you laugh. Not that I really thought this stuff out; it was more instinctual. Just like I knew pushing the beads together would make them be so much more interesting to see. So, I pushed at you. I'm not sorry. You're beautiful, Bruce.” 

Bruce didn't know what to say. So he put his own arms around Clint and kissed him instead. What Clint said made sense, sort of. Bruce had spent years locking himself down, afraid that his emotions would trigger the Hulk into coming out. It had become an ingrained habit, that control, and after he realized Hulk wasn't a monster and he could trust him to do the right thing -- manipulations by immortals aside – he kept acting the same way. It hadn't even started with the gamma accident. He'd had to be so guarded as a child, because he never knew what would set his father off. He'd loosened up with Betty, but without her in his life to keep him honest, he'd fallen back on his old ways.

Clint had challenged his control, all the time. Bruce had been attracted to him but he'd tamped that emotion down hard. He had never flirted with Clint or let him know how much Bruce liked him. 

Clint, on the other hand, had gotten Bruce annoyed, or frustrated or angry with him and sometimes made him want to laugh before the coma, and afterwards he'd flustered him, embarrassed him, aroused him, amused him, and caused Bruce to feel all sorts of turmoil. Bruce, not Hulk. Clint and Hulk, those two got along great. Well, Hulk had taken with him a large part of Bruce's feelings. Hulk was more primal, and being in his head had been hard, experiencing those emotions second-hand, when he didn't want to feel that strongly about anything. He'd wanted to be neutral. 

He didn't think he'd ever again be neutral. Clint had shattered Bruce's illusions about himself. The calmness he strove for masked his feelings, he'd thought. It had been a shield. But Clint had seen through that shield like it was crystal clear. 

It felt good now, not to have to be on guard with Clint. Bruce hadn't realized how tiring it had been to be that way with everybody. No wonder he'd finally given up and preferred to stay inside Hulk's head. 

Hulk. They needed to talk about Hulk. The quinjet banked then, and Bruce looked at Clint. 

Clint said, “I asked Bobbi about our ETA, and we'll be at the helicarrier in a few minutes.”

“After I get this thing off me, we need to talk about Hulk. Talk to Hulk, hopefully. I guess I'll be sedated again when we leave, so maybe tomorrow?”

“I'm not having you stuffed into one of those gamma dampener transporters again, unconscious from drugs.” Clint stepped away from him and beckoned Maria Hill to join them. “Let's get that cleared up right now.”

 

_

Bruce

_

 

Listening to Clint and Maria Hill argue was only making Bruce's headache worse. Hill was adamant that Bruce would have to follow the safety protocols when he left the helicarrier, which meant he'd be dead asleep again, and Clint was going on and on about how Hulk was a hero and didn't deserve that kind of treatment, and how Bruce had saved their asses, including hers, and that he shouldn't be treated as a dangerous criminal.

Neither one was budging, and Bruce put his hand on Clint's arm. 

“Let it go, Clint. You're not going to change her mind, and honestly, this time I don't care if the doctors put me under, if it will make my headache go away. Even if it doesn't, I don't see a way out here. I need them to take this thing,” he touched the hated collar, “off me.” 

Bruce turned to Hill. “Will you give us your word that I'm just going to be there for medical treatment and to get the collar removed, and then I can leave again? That you're not going to keep me in a cell and do stuff to me?”

Hill looked evenly at him. “You trust my word, Doctor Banner?”

Bruce shrugged his shoulders. “I'm willing to give it a shot. Especially if it means you two will shut up.”

“You have my word.”

“Okay, I'm not going to resist then. Clint, let it go. I appreciate you sticking up for me, and Hulk will appreciate you sticking up for him, but she's got her orders.” Clint set his mouth in a mulish line, but he nodded.

“I'd like to ask a favor, though.” Bruce made eye contact with Hill and she narrowed her eyes at him. 

“And what favor would that be, Doctor Banner?”

“Can we please skip the ninja part of jabbing me with a needle? I'm less likely to feel all PTSD'ed if the doctor tells me he's giving me a shot instead of surprising me.”

Hill stared hard at him, and he wondered how he looked to her. Probably she saw what the Controller had seen— a barefoot ragamuffin. 

“I'll agree to that, once you've been debriefed. I want to know exactly what you did to defeat the Controller.”

Bruce felt his eyebrows go up in surprise. “Me? Clint defeated him, not me. And he used Tony's tech to do it.”

Clint muttered, “Oh, for crying out loud.” Then he said to Maria, “He honestly doesn't get it, you know. Everything he did, I guarantee he'll downplay and he'll give all the credit away.”

Clint punched him very lightly on the arm. “I've already told her how you fixed it so Siryn couldn't control us, which I've got your earplugs, by the way. And I told her about all your genius moves. She just wants to corroborate it for her report. What I'd like to know is how you got out of my room after I locked you in.”

Bruce felt the quinjet descending. If he hurried, maybe this would be the end of Hill's questions.

“I couldn't find anything to pick the handcuff lock with, so I dislocated my thumb and cut myself to make my skin more slippery. Once I was free I picked the lock on your weapons cabinet. I used your grappling arrow to anchor a line to the roof. After climbing up, I hid the rope, broke in from a place I found on the roof.” 

He shot a look at Hill, and then went on, not wanting to have to explain how he'd known about the place on the roof. “Then I hacked into JARVIS and rebooted him, but we arranged things so he was hidden from everybody else. We communicated with a laptop, and I went back to your room and we made a fake video of me sleeping, to buy time if anybody did a video check on me later.”

Clint was grinning.

Bruce took a deep breath. “So, Clint told you that I messed around with Tony's tech, the negator packs. JARVIS started scanning the Controller once the Controller showed back up at the mansion. There were some differences in the Controller's armor, so I adapted the negator packs. Oh, and I made more tech, based again on _Tony's_ research, that would adapt the mind control disks so that the victim wouldn't be compelled to obey the Controller, but the Controller would think they were still under his thumb.”

Clint said, “Maria, you should have seen the moves Mata Hari Banner over here made to get mine on me. Very smooth.”

Hill's eyes crinkled a tiny bit when Bruce hissed, “Shut up, Clint!”

“You only made the one?” Maria asked.

Bruce shrugged apologetically. “I wanted to make more, but there wasn't time. I put my prototype over Clint's disk, and he saved the day.”

“What about the hologram of Vision?” Hill asked, “And how did you manage to evade capture, when everyone was looking for Vision's accomplice?”

“I sketched out a program and JARVIS finished it. He did great, didn't he? The hologram really looked like Vision and since Vision can go through walls, it was believable.”

Clint and Hill were staring at him. He shifted uncomfortably. “Umm, is the real Vision back yet? 

Clint said, “Vision showed up after you went down.”

Bruce nodded. “I sent him a message. He was the only one out of all the superheroes I was sure hadn't been compromised.” 

Maria asked, “So you didn't think to contact the Army?”

Bruce did a so-so motion with his hand. “Sort of? But I was too chicken to call them.” 

Maria stared at him again.

“Sorry.” He glanced away. 

Clint muttered under his breath, “He climbed--”

“Bruce!” Clint raised his voice.

“Mmm?”

“Do you know how to rappel? 

Bruce shook his head. “Not really.”

“Because I've been trying to figure out how you got back in my bed, and I'm guessing you came down from the roof again.”

“I wrapped the line from the arrow around a sturdy vent and climbed down holding both ends of it, and then I just pulled the rope free.” 

Clint shuddered. “Jesus. If you had fallen from that height...”

Bruce rubbed the side of his forehead. “Maybe you should give me some lessons.”

Clint nodded. “You are definitely getting more training, but you did good, buddy.”

Clint stepped close and hugged him, hard. “You did real good, on everything.” 

“How did you evade us? Did you invent tech that made you invisible, too?” Maria sounded curious, but Bruce didn't think he should explain the inner workings of the mansion to S.H.I.E.L.D.

Bruce shrugged. “No. I wasn't invisible. I'm just good at hiding.”

Clint snorted. “He's good at a lot of things. Although following orders isn't particularly one of them.”

Clint turned to Maria. “I told him to use his shield immediately after he first distracted the Controller, so he'd be safe, but did he?”

Bruce said, “Clint, I--”

Clint didn't let him finish. He pointed a finger at Bruce. “Nope, not until he had everybody on his ass and paying attention to him. Oh, and because he'd twisted his ankle and couldn't jump around like a jackrabbit anymore.”

Bruce felt another wave of crankiness and he lifted his chin, frowning at Clint. “I may not be an Avenger, but I want to help, if I can. I'm sure one of you guys would have done it better, but it was me or nobod--.”

Hill interrupted them. “You don't think you're an Avenger? Well, the rest of them think you are. Barton especially. He bent my ear about you while we waited for EMS to show up.”

Bruce rubbed his temples, willing the headache to lesson a little bit. His ears must be fucking up more, the ringing in them distorting what he thought Hill had said.

“My ears are screwy right now. I actually thought you said Clint called me an Avenger. He knows I'm not. He knows I'm okay with that.”

Annoyed, Bruce shot Clint a look. “I'm still going to help, if they need me.”

Maria said, “Well, I want you to register with S.H.I.E.L.D. I want you under government supervision, Doctor Banner.”

“I did talk to Hulk about it. He hasn't decided yet, but when he does, he'll tell you himself. Maybe on a video call. Did you keep your end of our deal?”

“I've acquired copies of the videos of you in custody. I haven't watched them yet. I've been a little busy. But, I will. I wasn't talking about Hulk. I said you, Doctor Banner. I want all the Avengers to sign up.”

“But I just told you, I'm not an Avenger.” 

Clint put his arm around him. “I'm going to eat a big bite of crow now. I know I told you that you weren't an Avenger, but I was wrong. You're one of us, Bruce. You always were; I was just too blind to see that.”

The quinjet bounced once as it landed on the helicarrier, and taxied slowly to a stop. 

Bruce started to get up, still lost in thought about what Clint had said, but the black-haired medic was suddenly there. Clint stepped back and she took charge. 

Hill waited until he was secured by safety restraints on the gurney, and then she put her hand on his shoulder.

“I still think you and the rest of the Avengers are a bunch of vigilantes that need to be under our, well, shield, but I want to thank you, Doctor Banner. Barton was right, you don't give yourself enough credit. If it wasn't for you, the Controller would still be making us dance to his tune. For that, you've earned yourself a lot of goodwill with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Bruce said, “Mmm, okay. And you're welcome?”

She said evenly, “I wish I could let you leave without being drugged, but you can't guarantee the Hulk's reaction. I owe it to the people under my command to think of their safety, but I'll tell the doctor not to spring the sedative shot on you. Think about what I asked, and you and Hulk let me know if you're going to do the responsible thing and register.”

“I'm not going to register, Assistant Director Hill. Frankly, I don't trust what S.H.I.E.L.D. will do with the information. Although I know it's a moot point with me. You already know that I'm the Hulk and where I live. But that's how I feel. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“Someday, Doctor, it won't be a personal choice. Superheroes will be registered and held accountable for their actions. And you're right, we do know who you are. I was hoping that your example would convince others— Tony Stark, for one— to also register. If you change your mind, let me know. Goodbye, Doctor Banner.”

She walked off, nodding to Clint.

Bruce closed his eyes as the gurney was pushed off the quinjet and down the halls of the helicarrier because watching the ceiling while moving wasn't doing kind things to his stomach.

Clint waited until he'd been wheeled into a cell adapted into a medical examining room before saying anything to him, while he undid the straps.

“You're too quiet. You don't believe me and the others, do you? About being an Avenger.”

Bruce opened his eyes. “When the Red Hulk had you, I couldn't stop him. He just threw me around like I was a doll. I had to watch him hurting you.”

“Yeah. And I couldn't stop Red Hulk from taking you out of the mansion. He knocked me right out. And Ultron made Hulk shrink back down to you, and the Skrulls kidnapped Steve, and Tony was made the Purple Man's bitch, and all of us can name times when we were in trouble. All of us. Bruce, you saved the Avengers from being turned into gamma monsters by the Leader. You saved a lot of people that day.”

“That was science. I'll always help you guys with science, if I can.” 

“So, science is good. But that's not all you're bringing to the Avengers. Bruce, you've got compassion, and a good heart. And sneakiness. You're tops at sneakiness. And you fought for us. You're an Avenger.”

It should have made him feel happy, vindicated that Clint had changed his mind about him. But Bruce didn't feel like an Avenger. Not like he did when Hulk first joined the team. He just felt like himself, Bruce Banner. The guy who'd recklessly put his body on the line in an experiment and had it blow up on him. The guy who took way too long to accept Hulk. Hulk had been him, his anger and fear born in the flesh. He'd changed from Bruce as he experienced the years after the experiment differently than Bruce had. He was both his own person now and still in many ways, Bruce. Bruce Banner, screw up. 

Bruce slid off the gurney and changed into the scrubs Clint handed him. He climbed into the hospital bed and shut his eyes. This headache, concussion, or whatever was wrong, was draining him of energy. He shifted until he was more comfortably arranged on his side. He could hear Clint taking off his quiver, and hanging it on the back of a chair. He listened to Clint walk over and stand by the bed, not surprised when Clint's fingers started trailing through his hair, lightly touching his head, bringing small currents of relief from the pain with his movements.

“What were you pondering about, Doc? I don't think it was anything very good. If you're thinking about how I fucked up with you, then I don't blame you one bit. If you're kicking yourself, ease up, all right? You were outstanding today.” 

Bruce gave a tiny shake of his head. 

Clint sighed and dropped a kiss on his shoulder where his scrub top gaped open. “You know, Jan wanted to shoot me with her stingers when she found out I'd told you that you weren't an Avenger.”

Bruce opened his eyes. “She did?” 

That made him feel better. Huh. “Maybe I shouldn't get hung up on labels. I'll help the team how ever I can, and you can call me what you want.”

“So, if I can get you to admit that you're part of the team, you're going to have to admit that you're an Avenger. Challenge accepted.”

What? Clint had twisted that around somehow, but a doctor chose that moment to come in the room, and the conversation between them was dropped.

* * * 

Bruce kept himself from pouting with an effort. He was a grown man; he was capable of handling frustration without resorting to acting childishly.

“Man, this sucks. I can't believe they're going to make you wait like this.” 

_Clint_ , though, had been pouting ever since the doctor said he wouldn't authorize a sedative at this time. Bruce's CT scan didn't show any problems, but since he'd been unconscious longer than a few minutes, and his headache was so severe, he was stuck here while the docs kept him under observation. He was allowed Tylenol, and it was helping, but his headache was still a killer. So, no sedative to put him out so he could be taken back to the quinjet. The doctor had told him he could and should try to sleep naturally, but as soon as he'd drifted off, the nuero check had woken him back up.

He touched his neck, glad that the collar was gone. Hulk was still asleep, though, and that worried him.

“Clint?”

Clint had been lying down in the chair, legs draped over the side, head hanging down. Now he looked up. “Need something, Doc? Refill on your ice water?” 

“Could you find out how Siryn is doing, and if she's okay, see if she'll come talk to me? Maybe she can wake Hulk up, since she put him to sleep.”

“Sure. I can go pester somebody about her.”

He got up from the chair and kissed Bruce goodby.

Bruce closed his eyes after Clint was gone, and hoped that without Clint's negative energy disturbing him, that maybe he could fall asleep for a while.

He had almost drifted off again, when he felt that somebody was in the room. Some small noise or movement had alerted him. He tensed, slitting his eyes open, ready to jump out of bed to protect himself, when he heard a soft voice say, “Bruce? Are you awake?”

It was Jan. He relaxed and opened his eyes the rest of the way. “Hi.”

He scooted over on the bed so she could sit down. She obliged him and patted his shoulder.“Clint said your headache is still pretty bad. I thought I'd come and keep you company while he talks to Terry.”

“Terry? Oh, Siryn?” 

Jan nodded.

“Is she okay?”

“She'll be fine.” 

“I hated having to blast her, but I had to so we could stop that maniac. I hope they do a better job of keeping the Controller in the Vault this time.”

She narrowed her eyes. “If I ever see him again, I'm going to blast him with my stingers just on principle.”

Bruce smiled at her, and her eyes widened. “You smiled. You have a very nice smile, Bruce Banner. We'd all like to see more smiling from you. Are you happy, Bruce?”

“I guess I am, pretty much. And now that I know what Clint wants with me--”

He stopped, knowing he'd put his foot in his mouth, and Jan giggled. 

“Yeah, okay, I asked for that. It's just, I'm not confused anymore about Clint.”

He smiled at her again. “I've been working on something for you.”

“You have? Can I see it?”

“Um, not quite yet. But with Siryn's help, I can give you a demonstration. Are you really sure she's alright?”

“I won't lie, you blasting her knocked her for a loop, but thanks to that mind controlling prima donna she wasn't in good shape.”

Bruce asked, alarmed, “What's wrong?”

Jan patted him again. “She was dehydrated and her blood sugar was low, and electrolytes were off. They put her on an IV drip.”

“Oh.”

“She's got a headache, too, not as bad as yours, though. How is yours? Any better?”

“Well...”

“I'll take that as a no.”

“How did she get in such bad shape?”

Jan scowled. “She'd been under the Controller's thumb longer than the rest of us, and he didn't remember to tell her to eat and drink, or leave it up to her own judgment. And he liked to call himself a genius. Phooey on him. A six-year-old would have taken better care of a pet turtle than he did for us. She's going to be discharged in the morning and when you're released, we'll fly her back to Manhattan with us.”

“Do you think she'd help wake up Hulk?” Bruce asked diffidently, quietly.

Jan looked at him, puzzled, and then her eyes widened. “Oh, Bruce, she's not upset with you. She understands. I'll bring her by in the morning, after the doctors let her go. You should try to get some sleep. I think Clint will be back soon.”

“What about you? Today was no picnic for anybody.”

She smiled. “I'm okay. I'm going to go hang out with Bobbi. We're going to have a girls night out – well in her quarters – and watch movies and um, just talk.”

From her expression he just knew his new relationship with Clint was going to be one of the topics. He'd rather bite his tongue than ask her about it, though. 

An involuntary yawn caught him by surprise and he used it to change the subject. 

“Think I'll try to get some shut-eye. Thanks, Jan, for everything.”

She smiled at him, and kissed his temple. “Sleep well, see you in the morning.”

The door opened, light from the hallway spilling into the cell, and Clint walked quietly in. Janet headed to the door and they whispered together for a few moments before she left then alone.

“Hey.” Clint knelt down next to his bed, their faces close together. “Terry said she'd help tomorrow. She's pretty nice; I think you'll like her.”

Bruce reached out and touched Clint's face. “Don't try to sleep in that chair. You'll end up looking like a pretzel. Sleep with me; there's room.”

“I should stay awake.”

“If they want me, they'll gas the room. That's what they've done before, so you might as well get some sleep, too. Please?” Bruce hadn't meant to say “please.” It made him sound too needy, but it had slipped out.

“Okay. I'm beat, too.”

He stripped down to his boxers, and climbed in behind Bruce, tugging him closer so that they were spooning. Clint wrapped an arm around Bruce's chest, and Bruce fell asleep listening to Clint's soft, steady breathing.

* * * 

Bruce's headache was a little better in the morning, but the doctor wouldn't okay him leaving just yet. He tried to lie about it, but the doctor just shook his head. 

“Don't try to fib; I'll know if you try to snow me. From the way you're holding yourself and the look on your face, your headache is still significant. Go back to sleep, and get him,” he pointed at Clint, “to give you a neck and back massage. Don't skip eating, and drink a lot of water. Stay off your feet and your ankle will be okay. If it's still bothering you when you leave, we'll get you a brace. Your thumb is going to be sore. Don't aggravate it. Or in other words, don't dislocate it again to get out of cuffs. I think that's it. Let's see how you are this afternoon.”

Bruce slept again after Clint followed doctor's orders and gave him a massage that melted every little knot he had in his back and neck, although sometimes it was painful when a reluctant muscle relaxed.

After he woke up, he lay still, just quietly thinking about how to ask Tony if he had some projects Bruce could work on for Stark Industries. 

When Jan and Siryn came in, Clint took the control and raised the head of his bed. 

Bruce looked at Theresa Rouke Cassidy apologetically when Jan introduced her. “I'm sorry about blasting you.”

She shook her head, her long red hair dancing. “Ah, call me Terry,” she said, the Irish lilt in her voice strong. “Doctor Banner, don't worry a bit about it. I was cheering you on, I was, because that bastard needed to be stopped.”

“My name's Bruce, Terry. I'm really glad you're feeling better.”

“I feel fantastic, thanks to you. Oh, that man. I wanted to make the Controller shut his gob so badly. On and on, he ranted. He wanted revenge on Iron Man, and S.H.I.E.L.D., and even A.I.M.”

Clint said, interested,”AIM?”

She turned towards him, “I gathered he had a falling out with that lot.” 

She smiled at Bruce. “And you, acting like he was controlling you with just that fecking helmet of his, that was brilliant.”

“Umm. Well.” 

“I couldn't free myself and I hated being made to help him. So thank you, Bruce.”

“Ah, you're welcome. I'm just sorry--”

“Hush now about that. I'm fine.”

Bruce closed his mouth on the apology he wanted to make again, and Clint poked him in the shoulder.

Terry rubbed her hands together. “Now, is it time to wake up that big green fella of yours?”

Bruce asked, “Before you sing to Hulk, would you help me show something to Jan?”

“Sure.”

“All you need to do is sing with your special abilities and direct it at some material.” 

He held out his hand to Clint. “Can I have the earplugs?” 

Clint dug in a pocket and dropped four small pieces of wadded up cloth into Bruce's hand. 

He held them out to Terry, and said, “Go ahead, sing.” 

She did, with a curious look at him, and as the song gained in intensity all of a sudden the material shifted from white to every color in the rainbow, pulsating gently between hues for several minutes before returning to pristine white.

Bruce smiled, happy that his demonstration had worked so well. He had been sure that it would, when he'd worked out the equations, but it was nice to have the experiment confirm his theory. 

“So, I was working on this for you, Jan, to adapt fabric so that it would, um,” he floundered for a moment, not wanting to bore them with the physics of what he'd done, “well, kind of soak up sound waves and then when the material is saturated, then it releases the energy in the form of light. I, uh, fiddled with it so that it would absorb anything Terry sang at it, but the idea was that you could use the fabric to make clothes, and sound wave energy within human hearing parameters, 20 Hz to 20kHz, would constantly be converting to colors as it was absorbed and then released.” He looked at Jan, hoping this was something she wanted. “I know you like to design clothing, so I, uh, thought...”

Jan beamed at him. “Bruce, this is so cool. Thank you. Oh my God, can you imagine wearing a dress or shirt made out of this fabric to a concert?” She hugged Bruce, and he smiled again, relieved that she liked his gift.

“I'll work more on it when we go home. I have to ask Tony if I can use his labs.”

“So that's what protected you, back at Iron Man's grand house?” Terry asked.

Clint said, “Yep,”

“You're a very clever man, Bruce. So, shall I wake up Hulk? You can't change in here, Jan and Clint said.” She was right; there were still gamma dampeners in here. “They said you can talk to him, though. Like a hallucination?”

Bruce nodded. “Yes, and I'll make sure he knows it wasn't your fault. Whenever you're ready, Terry.”

She started out with a low hum that soon became a tune that made Bruce want to snap his fingers and jump, but he concentrated on staying still on the bed. Clint and Jan were doing some kind of swing dancing, and it looked like fun. 

As the tempo increased to a faster speed, he let down the walls between them and felt Hulk rolling over in his mind, and then Hulk was no longer sleeping. He heard Hulk let out a roar of frustration when he realized he was trapped within Bruce. 

“He's awake, thank you.” She slowed the tune down to a pleasant hum, then stopped.

“Ah now, tell him no hard feelings, I hope, and that I'd be pleased to make his acquaintance someday.”

She and Jan left then. Clint sat down in the chair, busying himself with checking over his arrowheads. Bruce knew he was doing it to give him and Hulk a little privacy to talk.

Bruce stared at the far wall, and suddenly the image of Hulk was there, stretching. 

“Hi. You've been asleep for a while.”

“Because of that girl.”

“Mm-hm. Siryn sang you a powerful lullaby because she was being mind-controlled by the Controller. He got most of the Avengers, too, for a while, but Clint shot him with Tony's tech and took him down. The Controller's in custody now.”

“The team?”

“Everybody is okay. Siryn just woke you up and she said to tell you no hard feelings. It wasn't her fault.”

“Huh. Those roboids were too easy to smash. I should have been looking for a trick.”

“I'll tell you a story sometime about how a great city was defeated in ancient times by a Trojan horse. The Controller borrowed the idea.”

“Why are we in the helicarrier?”

“Because of the collar the Controller put on me, mostly. I have Maria Hill's word that we won't be bothered.” 

“I feel pain in your head.”

“Thor's hammer smashed down on Cap's shield, and I was right under it. It gave me a concussion and knocked me out for a while. As soon as my headache is better, I can leave. But I have to be sedated again.”

Hulk cocked his head. “Lie back down, go to sleep. We'll talk later.”

Hulk disappeared, and Bruce waited until the next nuero and med check, and then he fell asleep. When he woke up, he felt almost normal. The doctor cleared him, and told him it was time for the sedative.

Clint sat down on the bed and put his arm around Bruce. Bruce let the doctor inject him, and when Clint helped ease him back down on the bed, he caught Clint's hand. 

He didn't have to say, “Stay with me,” as his sight dimmed. He knew that Clint would have his back. 

* * *

  
_Hulk_

Hulk smashed another dead tree into campfire and woodstove sized pieces and gathered up a mighty armload to take and stack next to the cabin. Tomorrow it would be Bruce's turn to be on the outside, and Hulk thought he'd do him a favor and finish up the chores so Bruce could have more time for fishing and working on his experiments. And to have sex with Clint. 

”Hey!” Hulk had let the wall down in his mind and teasing Bruce was a lot of fun. Bruce snorted.

”That's something you've got in common with our boyfriend, Hulk. Picking on me.” Bruce's image smiled at him, though, so Hulk knew Bruce wasn't upset. Sometimes it was still difficult for Hulk to understand other people's emotions and body language. He and Bruce talked a lot about that.

They'd had a long talk about Clint, too. Hulk didn't feel quite the same way about Clint as Bruce did. Bruce was in love with Clint, although he wouldn't admit it yet. But Bruce felt happy now, and it made Hulk want to pat Clint on the head because of it. 

Bruce had told him that he and Clint would be okay with whatever made Hulk happy, when it came to the three of them.

Hulk liked Cupid a lot, and enjoyed spending time with him. He liked putting his arms around Clint when Clint was sitting on his lap. He enjoyed letting Clint hang onto him when Hulk went jumping. He liked letting Clint cling to his back when he swam laps in the pool. He liked watching movies with Clint and sharing popcorn. They kissed, and Clint sometimes slept in Hulk's bed with him, or even on top of Hulk. All of that was nice, but being with Clint didn't set Hulk on fire, not like it did Bruce. 

Bruce said that however Hulk felt about Clint was all right. That it was okay to just hug and kiss and spend time together. Clint said that Hulk was first of all, his friend. They'd been friends before Bruce and Clint had become friends. They could be friends with benefits, if Hulk wanted, and Bruce had explained what that meant. Clint had also told him that he was fine with just holding hands with Hulk and cuddling. He said to never tell Tony that he'd used the word “cuddling” or they'd never hear the end of it. He said Hulk was in charge about how much touching he wanted. 

Hulk decided that until he felt like Bruce did when Clint put his arms around Bruce, that he and Clint would stick with cuddling. 

Clint helped him stack the wood when he returned to the cabin. Then he and Hulk built a campfire and Clint cooked all the fish that he'd caught in the lake today. 

Bruce was a little annoyed that Clint had become a much better fisherman than Bruce was since they'd been coming up here for the last few months. Hulk thought it was hilarious. Clint liked to tease Bruce about it, but then he liked to tease Bruce about a lot of things. Most of them made Bruce blush, which Hulk also thought was hilarious. 

Hulk and Clint watched the fire burn down after it became dark, and watched the stars move across the sky. Hulk liked these times with Clint, when he would talk about being in the circus and becoming a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Hulk would tell him about some of the places – jungles and mountains and deserts -- he and Bruce had hidden away in, when Ross and the Hulkbusters had tried to catch them. 

Tonight, Clint had brought a bottle of whiskey to the campfire; he would sip from it occasionally and pass it over to Hulk. His body was too big to feel any effects from such a small amount of alcohol, but it was nice to share it back and forth. Clint never drank enough to get drunk, and he didn't do it when it was Bruce's turn to be at the campfire. Hulk knew why. Bruce had very bad memories about his father drinking, and Clint knew that. Clint didn't want to dredge up those bad times for Bruce with the smell of the whiskey. 

Beer, though, Bruce would drink beer sometimes. Bruce had told Hulk that he'd gotten over the bad feelings about the smell of beer once he'd gone to college. He called it desensitization, being exposed to it in better circumstances and eventually it didn't bother him anymore, unless there was yelling at the same time. 

Tomorrow, when Bruce was sitting at the campfire with Clint, they'd share a beer, Hulk knew. And then they'd start sharing other things and Hulk would yell at Bruce to put up the wall and for them to get a room. 

Tony liked to tell Clint and Bruce to get a room, and Hulk had borrowed the phrase from him. When Tony said it, Clint would splutter and Bruce's face would turn red.

Hulk remembered when Bruce had asked Tony if he could work for him as a part-time employee. Bruce had been shocked when Tony had said, “Hell, no.” Bruce had squared his shoulders, saying that he'd talk to Reed Richards instead. Tony had thrown his hands up in the air. 

Hulk had a good memory and he'd paid attention, in case he needed to have a little talk with Tony about being nice to Bruce.

Tony had said, “Oh, hell, no. Richards would be a terrible boss. No, Bruce, let me explain. You'd be wasted as just one of the guys in the lab. How about we set you up with your own lab, and you do whatever research you want?”

Bruce's face had brightened, Hulk remembered.

Tony had said “If you come up with anymore cool things like Jan's sound-to-light fabric, or anything that has a commercial application, then you can patent it— ah, call it ah, Bannertech, maybe, and Stark Industries will manufacture it and we'll share fifty-fifty on the profits. That's fair, don't you think? For a fellow teammate?”

Bruce had agreed. Clint, who'd been tagging along, grabbed Bruce and said, “Ah ha! Caught you. You just admitted that you're on the team. So you have to admit that you're an Avenger. I'm right, aren't I, Tony?”

Bruce had opened his mouth and then closed it again. He looked at Clint and then he looked at Tony.

Tony punched Bruce on the arm. “Legolas is right. You are an Avenger, Bruce. All of us feel that way. As a matter of fact, it was only Birdbrain over here that felt otherwise, and he's back on the right track now.”

“Admit it, admit it, admit it. You're an Avenger. Say it, Bruce. I can keep this up, you know.”

Tony groaned. “For the love of Odin, just say it, will you, so he'll shut up. Then we can go and talk lab space and equipment. I'll have Pepper draw up a contract and we can go over it. Do you want a lawyer to take a look?”

“Lawyer, maybe? Clint, why is it so important to you that I say I'm an Avenger? I told you that you guys can call me whatever you want.”

“I made you doubt yourself, and it's important to me, and I think to you, that you claim your place on the team. We need you, Bruce. Not just Hulk, but you. So say it and then when Tony's done with science stuff with you, I'll do that thing you like so much with my— ”

Bruce had quickly put his hand over Clint's lips. “You've got a big mouth, Clinton Barton. Okay, okay. I'm an Avenger.”

Bruce smiled then and pulled his hand away. He kissed Clint, and then told him softly, “I'm an Avenger; I'm on the team with you and the rest of our motley crew. Are you satisfied now?”

Just then, their cards all started making a racket. Bruce pulled his card from his pocket and Cap's face appeared on it.

“Doctor Doom is attacking the Baxter Building. Avengers assemble.”

Tony said, “We'll finish this up later, Bruce. Is Hulk coming out to play?”

Bruce nodded and kicked his shoes off while Clint unbuttoned Bruce's shirt.

Hulk took over then, as soon as Bruce's shirt was in Clint's hands. Bruce went inside and Hulk went with his team to teach Doctor Doom a lesson.

Hulk stopped remembering how satisfying it had been to smash Doom's stupid robots when Clint picked up a pinecone and lobbed it at him. “Hey, Big Green, what'cha thinking about?”

Hulk reached over and hauled Clint onto his lap. “Me. You. Bruce. We're good.”

 

* * *

_Bruce - Epilogue_

“Bruce, want another piece of pizza?” Steve asked.

It was Bruce's turn to be out, and it had been a quiet day for the Avengers. Bruce had done some training, and then worked in his lab for the rest of the afternoon. Clint had declared it should be a pizza and movie night, and they were all sitting in the kitchen. 

“I'm full, thanks, Cap.” Bruce drank the rest of his beer and put the bottle on the table. Clint nudged him and said, “So, how did Hulk's phone call yesterday to Hill go?”

Hulk had decided to let Assistant Director Hill know that he wouldn't support registering with S.H.I.E.L.D. 

He had explained his reasoning, and Bruce had been very proud of him for using his research to explain his position. 

“She wasn't surprised or anything. She and Hulk actually had a reasonable discussion about the issues. Maybe the next time somebody tries to blame Hulk for something he didn't do, she won't assume that Hulk was at fault. She also said she'd watched those films of me.”

Clint scooted closer and put an arm around him.

“Well, did she think it was torture?”

Bruce took a deep breath. “Yes. She said what they did to me in the name of science or security was wrong. She said she was raising hell about it.”

Clint said, “You know, Maria and I tend to argue a lot, but she's a decent person. She'll make sure those assholes pay for what they did to you.” He hugged Bruce and Bruce let Clint distract him from those bad memories of his days as a prisoner and lab rat.

The talk between the team shifted to telling stories about each other, funny things that had happened during their missions, even when the mission itself had been dangerous. 

The time Hulk had thrown Thor halfway across Central Park made Thor grin sheepishly. There were several about Jan and her favorite bad guy, Dave the Whirlwind, and they'd all laughed at how indignant Jan had gotten when he'd insulted her gender and size. The last laugh was definitely on him, since she'd put him down and sent him back to the Vault. 

Then T'Challa had talked about the time that Clint had challenged him for his kingdom. T'Challa was usually quiet, but when he chose to tell a story, he did a great job with it. Bruce listened, a grin growing on his face as T'Challa and the other guys described how Clint had pushed at T'Challa, invoking the ancient tradition that Wakanda used to choose their king.

Just as Clint was saying how T'Challa had kicked his butt, Bruce started to chuckle. He kept looking between T'Challa, regal even in a pair of jeans and T-shirt, his face calm and serene, and Clint, who had his Hawkeye uniform on still and who was making faces as he described how T'Challa's people had looked at him like he was crazy for declaring he wanted to be king. 

Bruce kept picturing the challenge and Clint's sheer bravado in thinking he could take over the kingdom. He wouldn't have been serious, Bruce knew. Well, he didn't think he would have been serious.

But, oh God, how he wished he'd been there to see that.

“King Clint,” Bruce said, and then he just lost it. He started to laugh, really laugh, hold-your-belly-because-it hurt-but-you-couldn't-stop, kind of laughing. He was snorting and giggling and every time he tried to get some control back, he would look at Clint and picture him sitting on T'Challa's throne and then he would be lost again to another helpless fit of the giggles.

He laughed until he was crying, tears rolling down his face, Clint protesting that it wasn't that funny, that what? He could totally rule a kingdom, and Bruce just kept laughing. 

Finally Clint put his hand over Bruce's mouth, and whispered something in his ear. Bruce's muffled howls slowed down until he was quiet. Clint took his hand away, grinning himself.

Bruce wiped his eyes and scrubbed his face, and looked at the team. They were all smiling at him. Clint put his hands back on Bruce's face and kissed him, long and hard.

“I love hearing you laugh, honey. Even if it's at me.”

He stood up, dragging Bruce with him. “Okay, movie time, right? You know what, Bruce hasn't watched the _Pirates of the Caribbean_ movies. How about we do a marathon?”

There was a general consensus and Thor called Jane. After a sketchy cleanup that was mostly just throwing away the empty pizza boxes, and shoving the three pizzas that were saved for Hulk in the fridge, they made popcorn and moved the party to the living room. They all flopped on couches or the floor as Tony set up the first movie.

Jan moved closer to Bruce where he was waiting on the couch for Clint to return from the bathroom. “What did Clint whisper in your ear? It sure got your attention away from your laughing fit.”

Bruce just shook his head. “I'm not telling.” He grinned at her, and she stuck out her tongue at him playfully.

Clint dropped next to Bruce on the couch and put his arm around him, “I'll tell you, Jan. See there's this--oof.”

Bruce had elbowed him in the stomach. “If you know what's good for your love life, Clinton Francis Barton, you'll keep that to yourself.”

Clint mimed locking his mouth and throwing away the key.

Jan laughed at them and went to sit by Tony. 

The lights darkened in the room. Bruce put his head on Clint's shoulder, absently playing with Clint's hand, feeling the callouses he'd earned from being an archer. 

He felt light. So light he could float away, except Clint was here with him, holding onto him, and his team was nearby and Hulk was rolling his eyes in the image he had briefly of him, but he was there with him, impatiently waiting for the movie to start.

“Clint?”

“Yeah?”

“This, all of this, it's really good, you know?”

Clint kissed him lightly on his temple, then said, “Yeah, Bruce, we're more than fine. Like Hulk said, you, me, and him, we're good. And we're going to keep being good.”

They kissed, a sultry acknowledgment of their future together, and ignored the popcorn that Jan and Tony threw at them. As the movie started to play, Bruce smiled again. He felt... he felt at peace.

* * *

**The End.**

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [True Colors An Avengers EMH Fanmix based on Every Thirty Days](https://archiveofourown.org/works/766483) by [laurie_ky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurie_ky/pseuds/laurie_ky)




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